


Defectum

by Rumo (Rumo_writes)



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Assassins, I'll update the tags as I go, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, PTSD, Runaan - Freeform, Ruthari Week 2020, Tinkaan, please mind the warnings, ptsd Runaan, runaan x tinker, smith Tinker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2020-01-13 12:32:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18469054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rumo_writes/pseuds/Rumo
Summary: The work as Assassin isn't as glamorous as one might think. Runaan is a young General of the renowned Moonshadow Assassin squadron and struggles with his occupation. One night, he meets someone special. Is the smith able to turn his life around?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been on my tumblr rumowrites quite some time but since some of you asked it's now also on AO3! Please leave a Kudo/comment if you enjoyed it or have any tips how I could improve.

The Celebration was in full swing. Their group of Assassins had just competed another successful mission, ensuring the safety of Xadia and the magical creatures living within. Still, Runaan didn’t feel like celebrating. Their mission brought them to kill a young human King. Almost still a child with his sixteen years. He was angry at the human for making such bad decisions within the first months of his reign that Xadia’s forces were forced to react, resulting in the early death of the young monarch. The Assassins were meant to be professional, deadly but not heartless. They took life, yes but they didn’t take it lightly. He told that phrase to his group every time they were sent out on yet another assignment and repeated it in his head almost constantly.

It was no easy task; remaining sane and functional when your duty consisted of killing, and solely killing. Secretly, he envied all the elves around him who did something else to contribute to their society for he had never exceeded in anything but fighting. His magic skills were passable but didn’t suffice for a healer or moon mage and his crafting skills were absent altogether. He had no knack for plants nor animals, leaving only the path of a soldier.

But that he excelled at. And oh, how much did he love the familiar rush of adrenaline that surged through his veins when he wielded his double blades or released an arrow from his bow. He was born to fight. No other member of the Xadian army could possibly match his skill or speed. It was a gift and curse at the same time.

Runaan even loved the missions, loved the risk and the exhaustion in his muscles after a good day of training or a long assignment on the way home. He loved nature and sleeping under the stars. By now his bed was less comfortable than the forest floor or even a branch of the next tree he found to camp in.

But there was still the dark side of his profession, the part regular elves seldom thought of, the killing and chaos they left in their wake. He didn’t mind killing truly evil creature as much as he probably should. The Assassin mostly blamed it on being dulled by years of taking lives. But some missions made him wonder. Wonder, if they were really doing the right thing. Killing the child prince had been necessary, he knew that, but Runaan couldn’t within picturing the boy’s fearful eyes staring up at him as he impaled his young heart in one swift motion. He never killed sloppy, always making sure the death he dealt was swift and as clean as possible. Still, he couldn’t take away the pain or ease their suffering. It was a burden he chose to bear so that none of his fellow soldiers had to do it. He made sure to always be the one who delivered the final stroke, trying to keep the guilt he felt every time from his companions. It was his responsibility as the leader of their group.

Even though he stood at the utmost edge of the celebration, only present because it was expected of him, a servant found him and refilled his cup with the dark whiskey he preferred. For a few hours, he lost himself in the sound and the alcohol, allowing it to soothe his raging mind before he finally got sick of watching his kin celebrate the death of a child and wandered into the woods.

He knew every tree and stone by heart, having used them as training ground almost all his life. Gracefully, if a little tipsy, he climbed the first tree, continuing his way through the treetops instead of the ground where people could see him.

Runaan found a nice spot in a particularly old tree where he was able to see the stars and sat down, his back steady against the tree trunk. The elf had liberated a bottle of wine from the feast and intended to let it ease him to sleep on his perch for he knew he wouldn’t be able to rest for the next few days otherwise. Rough missions always took their toll on him, but he needed to be awake enough to resume training. He would be coaching younger elves in the deadly arts of combat the coming week what he both loved and hated.

Some of the healer’s potions also helped him fall into a dreamless slumber but he couldn’t request the amounts of medicine he would need without raising suspicions. Faces flashed through his mind, reminding him of every death he dealt. Runaan held the bottle to his lips and drained it until the faces started to blur slightly before disappearing altogether. The world around him swayed a little, causing spirals to appear in the dark night sky. It took only a few moments for his brain to adjust and display the view at its usual beauty seeing it was used to do so. Slowly he raised the bottle to his face, intently staring at the empty bottom. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips at the lack of a refill, but he wouldn’t go back to the feast in his current state. His first and foremost rule for himself was to display control at any price in every situation. It was crucial for his position as a leader. His soldiers needed a constant to ground them. Though alone, he was afraid that if he let the mask slip once there would be no escape from his horrid thoughts.

Runaan carefully placed the bottle on a branch nearby before he continued to admire the stars and the calm serenity of the forest. Suddenly, he felt his world shift and in slow motion his vison changed from the sky to a quickly advancing forest floor. He had just enough time to curse before his body collided forcefully with the grass. The Assassin wheezed as the air all but left his lungs upon the sudden pressure. He laid motionless and gasping for a few moments until he didn’t feel like suffocating anymore and carefully tried to roll on his back. The motion sent white pain through his body and he couldn’t help but groan as he heaved himself into a sitting position, tightly clutching his abused chest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A friendly face appears.

In his drunken haze, he only heard the light footsteps when the other elf was merely a few meters away. Startled, Runaan spun around despite the pain and landed in a predatory crouch with a sharp hiss at the sudden motion. “Are you okay?” the other elf asked, showing his empty hands as if to signal he meant no harm.

The other had short hair that seemed to be more sandy than white and wore the clothes of a smith, a leather bag slung across his shoulders. “I’m fine.” Runaan insisted pleased that his voice didn’t waver or showed any sign of slurring. He had appearances to uphold. However, the other didn’t seem to be convinced as he slowly stepped closer. “I have some herbs in my bag that would prevent bruising if you like.” He offered, gesturing at this bag. “I’m fine, but thank you.” Runaan repeated in an attempt to get rid of his involuntary witness. “I don’t think so.” The other said, couching down beside him, and began to rummage through his pack. “Where does it hurt the most?” he asked and patiently waited until Runaan pointed at his rib cage. There was no point in telling the other elf to leave, now that he couldn’t be fooled. The short haired elf nodded and took a few leaves between his palms, begging to chant quietly. The leaves soon began to glow and with a gesture of his hand the glow transferred to Runaan’s torso, easing the throbbing pain immediately. “Thank you…” he started, looking at the other expectantly “Tinker” the elf supplied and slowly got up, sensing the other’s distress at his presence. “You’re welcome Runaan”

The Assassin blinked a few times. His savior knew him? It was no surprise really since almost everybody knew the leader and praised wunderkind of the most successful group of Moonshadow Assassins, but it still made himself uncomfortable for not knowing the other’s name.

Now that he thought about it, he was sure he’d seed him around a few times. When he looked up from where he was staring at the grass, there was no trace of the mysterious elf left. For a moment he even thought he imagined the encounter, until his gaze fell on the bundle of herbs that was still lying at his side.

The next day, Runaan awoke with a throbbing pain in his temple, reminding him of last night’s events. He slowly rolled down from his mattress, only barley catching himself on the nightstand. It took him longer than he cared to admit to get down to his kitchen in order to rummage through the drawers for pain medicine. Practically the only thing he, as a soldier, had unlimited access to, considering his occupation. He never took it for actual wounds though, preferring to feel first-hand when the pain lessened for real. Still, these potions were helpful to battle his morning headache after a night of too much wine or ale. He washed the bitter taste down with the rest of an almost empty wine bottle sitting on the counter from a few nights prior and made his way towards his private training room. The elves who had built this house for him had been taken aback by the request to include a large hall and keep everything else to a minimum but hadn’t objected.

He was still young, almost too young some would say, to lead so many missions but he’d seen more in his twenty-three winters than any other elf and nobody matched his experience in the field. Though most elves his age had a partner already, he tried to stay unattached. His duty bore too much risk for a companion and his schedule left almost no time for things like relationships. His group was currently on assignment, so he had no obligations to appear at the training grounds today. A positive thing he found as he still felt the slight throb of the headache against his skull. He started his training routine nevertheless, being used to the familiar signs of a hangover. Runaan worked out for a few hours before the increased grumbling in his stomach finally forced him to take a break.

He slowly took in the contents of his kitchen drawers. It was nearly impossible to keep fresh fruit and vegetables around as he was often away for several weeks at a time. Still, some of the merchants delivered food to his doorstep when he was home like they did for most of the soldiers who never stayed long in one place. He chose some vegetables for a salad and paired it with bread and cheese. The Assassin wasn’t the best cook, but he managed. No one could prepare field rations in more different ways than he did. A skill born out of necessity.

However regular food often troubled him to an extend that he simply prepared more elaborate versions of the soldier’s meals he usually consumed on missions. Bowl and bread in one and a glass of fruity wine in the other hand, he ventured through his empty house out onto the terrace outside his bedroom where he could see the forest and birds. Runaan comfortably settled in a cross-legged position on one of the cushions, placing the food in his lap and the wine beside him. The wind was slightly cold for the season where it brushed his bare chest, but the bright rays of sunshine made up for it.

He ate slowly, sipping on his glass every now and then and replayed yesterday’s events in his head. Or rather the parts he could still remember. The encounter with the other elf however, he remembered perfectly. Including the humiliation, he’d felt which was exactly the reason he had put thinking about it off until now, busying himself with practice.

Not that he would be required to train in his down time, considering the amount of practice he got at the Academy all day in sparring. No, he simply needed the occupation, the familiar ache in his muscles to not turn restless. Also, it kept the Assassin’s mind off the dark depths that lurked in the shadows of his mind. Despite the state he’d been in last night, he was still able to recall the other’s face perfectly. The pattern of his marks and even the light gold colour that sparkled in his eyes.

What a pathetic image he must have conveyed, drunk and injured from a self-inflicted fall. Still, the mysterious elf hadn’t commented on it, staying mercifully discrete all times. The worst part was that he had indebted himself to the other, Tinker, as he remembered now. Runaan hated owing someone. A debt would always hinder his neutral position towards others. And that was crucial for his very existence as an Assassin.

He had to repay the other elf in order to regain the controlled status quo he loved so much. But before he could do that, he had to find him. The Assassin replayed every scene he remembered seeing the other, extracting as much detail as possible. The perks of being used to gather as much intel as one could in order to survive were a trained and near perfect memory for the finest details. The first time he could remember seeing the other was his very first fight lesson. He couldn’t remember seeing him around after the first few times so he ruled out anything related to armed forces., taking in account that he would surely know him were the other a soldier. The next tie was years later, mostly on the street or the market but never in connection to anything that would help him find the other. Runaan went over the clothes he’d been wearing yesterday, a dark red linen shirt paired with smooth leather pants and a sturdy sleeveless vest in dark browns. A worker, maybe a carpenter or lumberjack.

Then, he remembered the metal pendant that had hung from the short haired elf’s neck. Fashioned with great craftsmanship, it had portrayed the sigil of the smith guild; combining the three rings from different metals for the professions of a black smith, jewellery maker and enchanter. A master of his trade then if he’d mastered all three of the guild’s disciplines.

And still the other had looked fairly young not possibly older that himself. It was rare to find masters of such young age as it took years to master each discipline enough to be allowed a master’s pendant. But then, he already commanded half of Xadia’s standing forces and lead all of the important missions at only twenty-three. By now, Runaan had finished his food, swirling the rest of the wine around in his glass before downing it in one swing.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment/kudo if you enjoyed it thus far! I'm always happy to get some feedback.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins...

He stood, making his way back inside to dress properly. A soldier of his status could not be seen wearing nothing but wide, light training trousers. The fabric pooled around his ankles as he changed into his casual uniform, consisting of dark blue uniform pants and a suede vest over a light undershirt bearing his rank in the squadron. Only one stripe on his shoulders missed until he could call himself the high commander of Xadia’s armed forces. However, he hoped it wouldn’t come to that any time soon. He wouldn’t be allowed to take every mission when he had to command all of their defenses and Runaan never intended to reach the position he was in now. He’d been perfectly fine following orders instead of giving them. The weight on his shoulders had only increased with every promotion. The Assassin carefully braided his long silken hair back, fastening the braid and loose strands with decorated silver clasps. Checking his appearance one last time in the mirror, he made a few adjustments. Relaxing the collar a little until his collarbones and the top part of his chest mark were showing. He didn’t want to look like he was trying to underline his status, aiming for a more casual look. At last, he took the dark green uniform coat from it’s hook, finally making his way towards town.

His house was rather remote by his own choosing. He loved the quiet of the woods surrounding him and didn’t mind the short trek to civilization.

There were only few possible places he could search for Tinker. Only three workshops he knew bore the sigil of a master and one of them could be ruled out as it belonged to the old smith who supplied his soldiers with weaponry. He passed the remaining two on his way to the market where he arrangements for further food delivery in the next weeks. Seeing he had no missions scheduled in that time and would most likely stay around. On his way back, he instinctively went to the smaller of the shops. Something about the other elf matched the slight chaotic but yet beautiful display in the window.

Upon entering, he almost stepped on a stack of horse shoes that was carefully arranged at the foot of a worktable. Further back in the crammed shop, he could make out a familiar silhouette hunched over a pendant. The short haired elf was so engrossed in his work that he only noticed Runaan when he stood directly in front of his workstation.

Tinker looked up from the magnifying glass he had placed above the delicate silver pendant as he braided hair thin wires around several moonstones. He set the piece aside looking at Runaan intently. “What can I help you with?” his voice was as warm and level as he remembered it from the previous night, leaving him short of words for a moment. “I wanted to thank you for last night.” Runaan felt the golden eyes assess him and suddenly turned self-conscious of his appearances. He hoped the effects of last night weren’t visible anymore and reflexively reached for the two long knives that were currently absent from his belt. The other elf simply inclined his head with a small smile. “Your welcome. I hope nothing hurts anymore?”

“No” Runaan quickly assured, running a hand down his rib cage where the pain had been. “No, I’m alright, thank you. How can I repay you?” The smith looked a little startled at his question, taking longer than before to answer. “There is really no need for that.” Meanwhile, the Assassin had finally regained his calm no longer twitching under the other’s gaze. “Please, I insist.” Tinker shook his head, a smirk appearing on his lips. “You caused no inconvenience for me if that is what concerns you. I was glad to help.” He assured again, slowly standing up. The short haired elf was a little smaller than him but Runaan could see defined muscles moving under his simple dark brown linen shirt.

“At least let me buy you lunch. To make up for the time?” the words were out before he had time to think twice about it. It was only past midday and just a little late for lunch time. Less curious eyes, his mind immediately supplied. Not even in moments like these, the soldiers instinct left him alone.

To his surprise, Tinker nodded, shedding the thin gloves he wore. “Okay, I should have taken a break hours ago either way.” The smith dragged a hand through his hair, pushing strands out of his face in the process. “Where would you like to go?” Runaan managed even though he was strongly captivated by the simple motion. Tinker huffed a laugh “I don’t know. I hardly have time to eat out for lunch. Mostly, I just stay in the workshop.”

The Assassin couldn’t help but grimace “Great, so we are on the same page about that.” The comment got him another laugh from the other elf and an unfamiliar warm feeling began to spread in his stomach area.

Tinker gestured to the door, grabbing the leather vest he’d worn the day before o his way out. “Well then let’s just go and see if we find something.” He couldn’t help but smile at the bubbly nature of his rescuer that was so different from the seriousness of his soldiers. The elf seemed genuinely happy at the prospect of getting lunch with him. Nobody did that usually. They all respected him too much for that.

Once outside, he offered his hand after the smith turned the sign on the door to ‘closed’. “You told me your name yesterday, but I didn’t introduce myself to you. My name is Runaan.” Tinker shook his hand with an amused smile. “I know who you are. Everyone does.” But he took the hand nonetheless. “Nice to properly meet you Runaan.” “Likewise”

They ended up going to the first little shop that still served something to eat since neither exactly knew his way around. The two tucked themselves in a little corner booth by the window where both of them were able to observe the passing elves. Runaan asked what the inn-keep recommended and both took her choice without even looking at the slate where the menu was pictured. They fell into easy banter, exchanging stories until she arrived with their food. The silence while they ate was comfortable and Runaan found himself absently watching the passer-bys. Once he was done, Tinker followed his gaze, also tracking the elves outside the window. “What do you see?” he asked suddenly, raising his eyes back to the Assassin. “Oh, it’s just a habit.” He allowed, returning the look. “I like to know who’s around me, just in case.” Tinker nodded with a small smile. “I bet you assessed every single one in here before we even sat down.” He suddenly felt his cheeks heating up, How was this stranger able to read him so well? “No, it’s not like that…” he began, searching for the right words. “I’m not paranoid. It’s just a reflex.” Even though he realized what he just said pretty much qualified as paranoid. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” The smith assured quickly while his smile turned challenging. “Honestly I find it fascinating. What about the elf sitting over there by the door?”

Runaan looked at him with a puzzled expression. “What about him?”

“What can you tell me about him?”

“Married but got divorced before, married again, works as a carpenter, probably something between two and four children.” Tinker grinned “Impressive. And you are right, he’s a carpenter and lives with his second wife. They have two kids and he had one with his ex. How did you tell?” Runaan couldn’t within raising an Eyebrow. “So, you tested me? Well, the clothes he wears are made for hard work but there are no signs of ash, only remains of saw dust, so wood. Also his engagement ring is smaller than the tan line of his old one; new wife. And the kids were just math.” The smith laughed. “You really are as good as they say. So what about that one over there?” He discretely pointed at another elf sitting by the bar nursing a drink. He knew he was showing off but Runaan didn’t even hesitate before answering. After all he had catalogued every single one of them upon entering. “Ex Border Patrol, is now working for the healers, right handed, favors the sword and probably got wounded in service. Married, no children.” There was it again, the little challenging smirk on the smith’s face. “How do you tell he favors the blade?” “Where he an archer, one of shoulders should be more developed than the other. And he holds his cane like a blade and not like a spear-man would.” Tinker laughed again, beaming at him. “It’s fascinating how you are able to assess people like I do with steel.” This cued a long throughout monologue about the elements he worked with and Runaan was content with listening to him, drinking in the sight of the other wildly gesticulating and smiling at him the whole time.

After a while, Tinker looked around the now almost empty shop. “Oh, I am sorry I’ve been rambling. You probably have other things to do.” The Assassin was then pulled from his thoughtful state, looking slightly startled. Well as much as his stern expression allowed it at least. “No, no it’s fine I have no plans this afternoon. But surely you must get back to your workshop?” the smith shrugged “Yeah you are right, I should probably get back to work. Thank you for the invitation. Getting to know you was really nice…” he then sheepishly scratched the back of his head “…I hope I didn’t bore you with my rambling. I tend to get lost in it.”

That extracted a laugh out of the Assassin. “Don’t worry. It’s refreshing to talk about something that is not related to shift schedules for once. Let me walk you back to your shop.” Together, they crossed the few intersections until the duo reached Tinker’s workshop. “Well…” Runaan started “A productive afternoon, I guess. And thank you, again.”

“Thanks, I would heal you more often if you let me ramble about rare metals afterwards.” the smile on his face was genuine, lighting up the golden eyes until they sparkled. The Assassin felt something inside him jump at the sight. “A-Anytime. When you, um, when you talked about combining the metal with charged moonstones, I thought about a new design I’ve been toying with. It was very inspirational, really.” Not all soldiers designed their own weapons but for Runaan his dual knives were the most important possession he could have. An extension of his skill, completing the movements with purpose. The same counted for his bow and other weaponry. He wanted, needed them to be perfect. So, although he lacked the skill of it, the Assassin always made very specific instructions before he commissioned a new blade. Improving the measurements until they were perfect. “Really?” Tinker beamed. “Well, if you like, you could show me your plans sometime and maybe I can help you with it. I’ve experimented a bit in the last few months and a lot is applicable on weaponry.” Runaan smiled “That would be great. I will come around as soon as my schedule allows.”


	4. Chapter 4

Back home, he took the stack of shift schedules he still had to compete and a glass of whisky to the balcony. Although he made quick progress with the boring, yet necessary paperwork, his thoughts kept drifting to Tinker and the design stuck in his head. When he finally placed the last table of night shift hours on the completed stack, he practically raced back inside to get the sketches and some fresh parchment from his study.

Most of the evening, he spent sketching his ideas and taking notes regarding functionality. He only stopped when the stars began to show in the night sky, drawing his gaze up to marvel at the sight.

He loved the stars and nature itself more than anything, often preferring to camp outdoors in the woods instead of sleeping at home in his bed or his Bunk rooms at the academy. Although Generals of his rank weren’t required to live at the fort, he sometimes hand to spend the night due to inconvenient shift plans he’d made himself or emergencies. And if he somehow got injured of course. The squadron’s healers were very strict about any of the soldiers leaving their care earlier than preferable. Seeing that he’d made a few less than professional impressions by sneaking off after they tended his wounds, their behaviour was clearly justified. With a sigh, he collected his notes and sketches as well as the finished shift schedules and placed both stacks on his worktable. Due to the late hour, Runaan only recited a few simple cathartic sword forms before retiring to bed.

His mattress felt oddly soft after his weeks away even though it was considerable harder than the dove-feather stuffed ones most of his kind preferred. He’d ordered it to be stuffed with hay and linen instead, so it resembled his sleeping mat but Runaan still felt out of place in a real bed.

Above him, the stars sparkled through the large glass windows he’s placed in the roof to be able to see the night sky. For someone who spent so little time being at home, he put a lot of effort into designing it to match his preferences. Some of the alterations he made could be considered eccentric and a waste of money but one of the perks of his position was that he would never have to worry about paying. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even live long enough to spend everything if he tried. So instead of unnecessarily hoarding it, he built himself a house according to his needs and wishes, never minding the cost. He had a moderate cellar for wine and food storage in the basement and a small but elaborate kitchen area next to the entry from where he could reach the large training room that spanned two floors, fully equipped with a jungle gym, targets and rafters to climb through.

His work and sleeping area opened up to a large balcony that could be used as bedroom in summer. Runaan had installed hidden shelves and grips on the outside of his house afterwards to always have at least one weapon and exit route at hand. The thought made him sleep better even though his long, curved twin blades were always placed next to him on a shelf specifically made for that purpose.

The Assassin curled his fingers around the grip of the dagger under his pillow and gazed up at the stars until he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think he'll be dreaming about?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll get to know some more characters this chapter! Runaan's soldiers will also be playing a role in the future.

The next day, he went to the academy to train. Not because he had to, but a partner to rehearse with was always nice. It also gave him the opportunity to drop off the finished shift schedules and talk to some of the trainers about the progress of their newest batch of recruits.

Before he left the house, he thought about making copies for himself but decided against it. He knew them by heart anyway. Although he didn't seem like it, Runaan found it important to know as much as possible about his soldiers. They weren’t only replaceable chess pieces to him and he’d always made a point to subtly arrange missions and shifts so that none of them would miss their own or a loved ones Birthday. The Assassin also made sure that each got enough time to heal should they get wounded. Most of the younger recruits were oblivious to it but some of the soldiers he had started with knew and appreciated the gesture however so small.

Runaan in turn thought highly of them for not treating him like some kind of opportunist who only wanted to climb the ranks faster. When he had started general training, he’d been several years younger than any of them and at a huge disadvantage speed and strength wise. Most of them still remembered him then and had seen for themselves how hard he trained to get to the level of skill he was currently operating on. Back then, he’d spent more time face down in the dirt than actually fighting. Always staying behind after training was officially over he’d slowly gotten better until he won his first fight. After that, his determination grew and he worked out a more efficient training plan. Like all new recruits he used to live in a bunk room with three other soldiers to be. The majority of them complained about the scarce housing but in his opinion, it was no worse than the orphanage.

Every spare minute, he trained and even when he had regular lections aside from fighting, Runaan tried to learn as much as he could. By the time he finished training, he’d moved up years twice, effectively making him the youngest to ever lead a mission at only sixteen. From there on it had skyrocketed and within four years he found himself second in command of the executive branch of Xadia’s armed forces.

Until that, Runaan had chosen to live at the academy since high-ranking members each got a full equipped room at their disposal. With almost no living expenses, his pay checks quickly accumulated to an amount that allowed him to task the building guild with a house made to his requirements.

And even now, he needed only a fraction of the coins they paid him. He’d expressed such to his superior but the other elf only laughed at him. She instead suggested he’d buy some decent clothes instead of running around in his uniform all day. Only to annoy her, he’d purchased a dozen new sets of the exact same uniform, including winter and summer alterations.

He owned other things, yes, but an Assassin is all he was and probably all he’d ever be. It simply felt wrong to go somewhere without at least his casual uniform. The familiarity calmed him and gave the elf a feeling of security even when they ventured into enemy territory.

Upon arriving, he already saw some from his usual strike team train in the yard. Three elves, a pair of mid-thirty twins and a female five years his senior twirled around each other while the pair tried to catch her off guard.

When she saw him, Kira jumped back to extract herself from the twin’s blades. “Hey hotshot! We missed you yesterday. Care to join us?” Now, they all stopped, walking towards him to meet their leader in the middle of the otherwise empty pit. Runaan rolled his eyes while nodding but waved the stack of paper in his hand. Kira always tried to annoy him with stupid nicknames. “Just give me a couple of minutes to drop these off at the administration.” One of the twins, Jino, shoved the female elf’s shoulder “Don’t listen to her we just did some target practice yesterday, not much to miss out on but it was a hell of a celebration the day before. Although you ditched us pretty early.” At that, his brother Janus joined in “Yeah, where were you? We lost you after the first hour.”

Runaan shrugged and showed his stack of parchment again “Oh, you know, just wandering around, enjoying the quiet and writing those shift schedules of course.” Kira raised a doubtful eyebrow at his explanation, but the twins seemed satisfied. Before she could change her mind and voice her opinion, he took a few steps towards the main building. “See you in a few.” They all nodded and resumed their exercise, now a little more eager than before.

His chat with the elf who managed their office was quick and uneventful. Usually, he just dropped the finished tables off and collected the names and info for the following months to take home. Today, a few letters had arrived for him so he took them, too before quickly making his way to his room with agitation in his bones at the prospect of a decent training session.

He changed out of the formal uniform, donning the training version sans coat and armour instead. Runaan contemplated his weapon options for a moment before strapping a dagger to each of his thighs and a pair of curved swords on his belt. On the way out, he caved and also took his bow, slinging the quiver over his shoulder. There would be time for target practice later.

Kira and the twins were sitting on the stone wall of the pit when he returned, waiting for Runaan to show up. They had been with him on the last mission and were technically, like himself, still on leave for a week. Most soldiers still chose to train a few hours a day, being used to the activity.

They stretched together before starting some easy rehearsals. None of them were in a rush so they slowly upped their speed and difficulty until they fought three against one. Runaan had to admit that it was hard for him to keep up against three highly skilled fighters, but he knew their weaknesses and managed to hold them off for a considerably long time.

At the end of the day they were all drenched in sweat but satisfied with their good workout.

Janus and Runaan did a few rounds of target practice while the other two sat on the side and took bets before he got persuaded into getting a few drinks with them. They agreed to meet up again once everyone was cleaned up. All of them, being used to change quickly, were ready to go mere minutes later.

Their preferred Inn was only a couple minutes away from the academy and primarily favored by soldiers. The Innkeeper led them to their usual table that was mostly secluded in the back of the room. Runaan used the time they were waiting on their drinks to tell them they would be staying at the academy for some time since no new order from the council got issued. The three cheered a little and promptly decided to drink on the little break allowed to them. Although all of them loved the thrill and adventure, they weren’t reckless and well aware of the risk each new assignment bore.

“So, the world gets to see us for a few more weeks at least!” Kira grinned and clinked her red wine against Runaan’s Whiskey before doing the same to the twin’s beers. “To the Jackass who keeps leading us headfirst into each new disaster!” Jino raised his glass to their combined laughter “and to the Idiots who keep running after me!” the Assassin added with a smirk, downing the liquid in his glass.

As the evening progressed further, the group was finally able to forget their occupation for a few hours while they shared stories and remembered each other of particularly embarrassing events that had happened to one of them in the past. By the time the Innkeeper came around their table to tell them they would be closing soon, the twins were merely giggling hysterically, and Kira needed four attempts to place her wine glass on the coaster. Runaan’s own tab showed more checks than it probably should. Still, he only felt the familiar tingle in his limbs and slight haziness in his vision.  

Time to head back, before he got the chance to make a fool of himself. He had a reputation to uphold after all. Nevertheless, he bought a bottle of the whisky he’d been drinking for the most part of the night. They parted outside; Kira half-carrying her two companions back to their rooms at the academy while he took the other direction towards his house. Once the others were out of view, he uncorked the bottle and strayed from the path, taking the route through the woods. Now that his bubbly subordinates were gone, his thoughts wandered back to his last mission and all the ones before that where he had doubts considering their target. A deep swing and slight bun of the liquid later, he felt the painful images melt into each other and forced them back into the depths of his troubled mind.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And they meet again!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for a long time of mutual pining...

Runaan awoke with a throbbing headache. Puling one arm up to clutch his face, he rolled to his side and was suddenly faced with a rapidly approaching hardwood floor. His somewhat groggy reflexes barley managed to spare him a broken nose when he collided painfully with the ground of his training room. With a groan, he rolled onto his back, staring up to the wide beam he’d apparently been occupying. The events from last night came slowly floating back and he concluded that somehow, he must have climbed up there the last night and fallen asleep. Runaan counted himself lucky that he didn’t fall down while still asleep and tried to sit up. He succeeded at the second try. The bright light shining into his eyes told him it was still before midday, so the assassin hadn’t slept that long after all. A sudden wave of nausea kicked him into a sprint for the kitchen sink where he lost possession of his dinner and what he remembered to be very decent Whisky.

Runaan took a cup and filled it with water before sliding to the floor, his back against the counter. As he slowly sipped the water, the elf contemplated how he could probably get hold of this mess that was currently his consciousness. The child-king just wouldn’t leave him alone, always lurking in the back of his mind to haunt him whenever he was alone.

The new weapon and training had proven to be good diversions, effectively holding his sole attention until he was exhausted enough to sleep. Aversion was the key after all. In his head, he began to structure the rest of the week. During the time he had courses to give at the academy, the Assassin usually got up extra early to get some training of his own in before meeting the recruits at eight am sharp. He also trained in the evening after his group left since the two hours in the morning and light exercise during the day still left him restless and twitchy on most days.

The five days until his new recruits arrived slowly played out in his mind. Training early and in the afternoon. Between that, he could either get a head start on some of the paperwork or continue with the new weapon. And maybe, he thought, there would be time to visit Tinker. Something about the prospect of seeing the smith again caused his face to heat up.

What if he found the idea stupid? Runaan really wasn’t an artist after all. He quickly banned the thought into the same void his consciousness got locked up in before they could drag him down. No, he would go see Tinker, maybe even today, and ask him whether he found the weapon doable. And doable was really everything he needed right now.

It took him half an hour and a glass of water before he trusted his body enough to leave his place on the kitchen floor. Runaan then did some light exercises as if that would prevent him from throwing up again but still managed to get his blood running. By the time he was finished, the elf was still coated in a thin layer of cold sweat due to the nausea that wouldn’t quite vanish.

Afterwards, he first took a cold shower and then a hot bath, slowly feeling the life flood back into his system. It took him quite a while and a lot of scented oil before his entwined hair was back in a presentable form. He ran a brush through the still wet strands until it was silky and smooth, falling over his bare shoulders like a pearly white waterfall.

He placed all his sketches and notes in a sturdy cardboard binder and grabbed his black leather shoulder bag. Not everybody had to see him carry sketches around. The less anyone knew about him, the better. An Assassins greatest asset was anonymity and secrecy. Here, he couldn’t possibly blend in due to his high status, but he could still keep a mystical aura, make himself unpredictable. The image he’d created for everyone to see was impeccable with a few minor faults in order to make it look believable. Complete perfection was always treated with mistrust. Even the dragons themselves had flaws. No living being could possibly be entirely perfect.

Every once in a while, he lost on purpose during sparring matches or placed his arrow a fraction off centre. Never often enough to seem like he wasn’t their best but often enough to look like he had bad days, too.

That way, his fellow elves simply regarded him with a mix of awe and fear but none of them wouldn’t trust him. Too many enemies of Xadia had fallen to his blades for that.

The walk to the village was quick and undisturbed. Most people were already working or running errands, so the streets were mostly empty. He caught himself walking slower once he reached the alley where Tinkers shop was half-hidden behind a bakery. He was the only customer which didn’t really surprised him since it was still early afternoon and the streets wouldn’t be busy until the evening. Some shop owners even closed midday due to the lack of customers.

The smith was nowhere to be seen but Runaan could hear faint clanging noises that most likely resulted from a hammer meeting steel. He carefully stepped further into the shop before spotting a doorway on the far right where the noise grew louder. “Hello?” he shouted but didn’t really think anyone would answer. The noise would probably drown everything else out. The Assassin waited for a few moments before carefully following the sound through the doorway and down a rather narrow hallway whose walls were lined with a wide assertion of swords and spears. The air grew drier and hotter the further he came until the hallway opened into a fairly large room. The other elf had his back turned to him and was currently shaping a piece of glinting steel into what seemed to be an axe head. “Hello?” he tried again and immediately cursed himself as the smith stopped mid-motion and whipped his head around. “Oh, I’m sorry…” Runaan stammered “I didn’t mean to startle you.” Upon seeing who the intruder was, Tinkers gaze softened into a smile “Don’t worry. I usually don’t hear the bell at the door back here. Let me just get this done and I will be right there.” He gestured for the hallway, turning back to the orange metal on the anvil in front of him. “Could I wait here and watch?” the question was out before his brain managed to stop himself. “It’s quite interesting.” He quickly added to appear unsuspicious. Tinker just shrugged while he continued to hammer onto the slowly reforming metal. “Yeah sure. I don’t mind.” The twenty minutes the smith needed to finish the raw shape were over way too quickly in his opinion. It was almost mesmerizing to watch the steady up and down of the hammer and the confident controlled movements that slowly turned a blob of hot steel into a beautiful weapon.

Once he was done, Tinker placed the Axe on one of the heavy oak tables and took off the thick leather apron that protected him from both heat and flying sparks. Runaan immediately noticed the dark rune tattoos that were entwined with his marks, filling the gap between the two rings on his shoulder. It was rather uncommon for moonshadow elves to be tattooed but it somehow suited the smith. The thin sleeveless linen shirt Tinker was wearing had a few singed spots where the sparks found their way and generally looked like the other ever only used it to work in the forge. It looked rather good on him, Runaan decided after discretely staring while the other placed the last of his tools in their respective places. The strange warm feeling returned and he had to force the blush that crept on his face away as the smith willed a few strands of hair back, showing off his impressive biceps in the process.

“So, what can I do for you?” he asked, wiping hands and face clean of the ash and grime. It took Runaan embarrassingly long to answer, so engrossed was he in those delicate fingers threading through the piece of cloth.

“It’s about the weapon-design actually. You said you would maybe take a look and tell me whether it’s doable.” Immediately, Tinker nodded enthusiastically “Yes of course! It’s been too long since I had the opportunity to experiment with something new! Just…” he started before looking down at himself “…just let me change into something less dirty. I’ll be right back.” While he vanished up a set of stairs at the far end of the workshop, the Assassin took out his notes and brought them in a relatively logical order. He passed the time until the other returned by looking at some of the displayed weapons in the shop. One spear in particular caught his interest. It was a little taller than him and had a slightly curved blade on each side. Upon further examination, he discovered that it could be broken down in the middle with a switch hidden in the hilt, thus creating two swords. Suddenly someone took it out of his hands and Runaan had to summon all his willpower to not shriek away.

“Here” Tinker explained, pressing two other buttons in the hilt that retracted the middle part until it was only two hands wide and unfolded it again to an even greater length. “It’s truly magnificent.” He praised, looking at the spear in awe. Tinker smiled at him happily in return. “Thank you. Although it’s mostly for show I guess. I’m not sure if it would be really practical in battle.”

“Are you kidding me? I have a couple of strategies in my head that would profit from a parry weapon that can be broken down to get two short-range weapons!” The smith then laughed at his enthusiasm. “Well not everyone likes their weapons as complicated as this one. The main reason why it’s still here I guess. But you wanted to show me something, right?” He pointed at the stack of paper in his hands. “Yeah, yeah sure. The drawings aren’t very good though.” Tinker just made a dismissive gesture, reaching for the parchment. “They can’t be worse than the very early drafts I do.”

After handing them over, Runaan anxiously waited for a reaction as the other scanned every sheet with seemingly increasing interest. “My idea was to incorporate a set of blades with a bow for both long and short range.” He supplied after a while. The smith nodded absently, studying one of his more recent sketches. “I think it’s doable. But it won’t be cheap, materials and all.” He finally said, an excited grin spreading across his face. “Payment won’t be an issue.” Runaan stated while placing two bags filled with coins on the table. The grin now threatened to split the others face. “That’s great! Have you got any idea of the variety of materials we could use? Xadian steel, moonstones for functionality, maybe even night copper to balance the blades…” the smith continued to list different materials and their use while simultaneously scribbling the things he said on a piece of parchment. Runaan was fascinated by the other’s enthusiasm and patiently waited until Tinker had filled two pages with ideas from the top of his head. “I would have to watch you fight.” He suddenly said, fixing him with a surprisingly piercing gaze. “What?” the Assassin had still been daydreaming and now looked slightly confused. “It would help me decide on the most suitable design for the, ah let’s call it Bowblade, if I could see how you fight.” He explained, gesturing to one of his sketches. “You know, so I have an idea how you would be using it. Things like the length of the blade and handle design are usually more influenced by functionality than decoration.” Runaan nodded slowly in understandment “Sure, you could come to the courses I teach or my own training time. I could also show you some moves here but I guess it’s better for you with an actual opponent, right?”

“Yes, preferably when you fight someone equally skilled. So that you really have to fight, you know?” Tinker looked at him expectantly and made a move to hand back the papers before stopping mid-motion. “Actually, would you mind if I keep them until I’m done? You had some interesting notes in between that would certainly help me.” With a smile, Runaan nodded again, glad that the other found his notes useful. “Of course, that’s what I made them for.” He went through his training schedule in his head to determine when there would be suitable sparring sessions for Tinker. “When would you like me to show you how I fight?” he decided it was easier if he just asked when the other was free. “I can open and close the shop as I please, so I could just come to your usual training times if that doesn’t bother you. I am very discreet.” Meanwhile the smith had pulled a thick unused sketchbook from one of the drawers behind his desk and neatly labelled it “Runaan” before placing it in a bag together with a few different pencils. “Could I have a piece of paper?” Runaan asked and began to pen down his usual work week starting with the new recruits. He filled in every training session and remarked below each one whether it was meant to be at his home or the academy and alone or with partners. Tinker looked at the finished week plan for a moment before raising an eyebrow. “That’s a lot of training. You are aware that the time between your last and first training is, like, really short?”

He simply shrugged “I need the movement.” Again, the eyebrow. “Alright, according to your plan you would be training with someone in your party in roughly an hour. Would you mind if I accompany you?” the Assassin was slightly surprised to see Tinker so invested in his new order but agreed, nonetheless. “If you don’t have anything to finish today. There will probably be some of the more experienced soldiers present so you will at least get a good show.”

A smirk appeared on the others face. “Oh, I have no doubts about that. Your reputation exceeds you.” He then grabbed his bag and a vest before gesturing for the door. “Let’s go!” Runaan obediently followed and together they passed the now busy streets leading out of town and towards the academy. Once there, he took the smith to his rooms in the right wing of the old stone fort. He motioned for the table in his study before vanishing in the bordering sleeping chamber to change. “Make yourself comfortable. I will be right back.”

He changed into his usual training attire that consisted of wide black pants and a sleeveless thin linen shirt. He contemplated dressing in something more official and nicer but quickly dismissed the thought. He was here to train after all. When Runaan re-entered the study, he could see Tinker sitting on the floor amidst all of his training weapons, furiously taking notes and sketching rough drafts of his blades that still looked better than Runaan’s best drawing. He quietly watched the scene before raising his voice. “You can look at the real ones, too if you like. I have most of them at home.” The smith jumped a little and nodded “Yes that would be helpful. So I can incorporate something familiar in the handles, eases the transfer.” He then stood an placed the weapons in their respective stands along the wall. The Assassin noticed him testing the weight and balance of each and every one while returning them. Something in the way he analyzed every little detail fascinated him.

For today’s training, he chose two different sets of twin swords that differed in length and shape since those should be part of the new weapon. Of course, he also took his bow with a few padded arrows. He would most likely not get to use it today but took it anyways in case the others turned up later than expected.

When they stepped out into the yard, three familiar figures were already occupying their usual spot, seemingly discussing their shift plans and the best times to meet up for additional training. Tinker excused himself with the intent of searching a nice spot to sit where he wouldn’t bother anyone and Runaan continued to greet his soldiers.

“Who’s the handsome guy over there, hotshot?” was Kira’s greeting to him while she discretely nodded towards the portion of wall the smith had claimed as perch. He couldn’t suppress the eye roll in response. “He is a smith and will craft a new weapon for me. You will probably see him around some more. He says he wants to see my fighting style before getting started.” She only gave him a knowing smile before stepping away to take her fighting stance. As per usual, the four started with some easier moves in changing pairs before it was three against him.

On his spot on the wall Tinker had the large sketchbook placed in his lap and was currently on his fifth motion sketch. He immediately loved drawing Runaan. His movements were so graceful and precise it was mesmerizing to watch. He tried to convey as much of it in his drawings as he could. Every once in a while, he would find the other watching him with those piercing turquoise eyes of his. It always sent a shiver down his spine and he caught himself drawing a close-up of the Assassins face for a change. He also took notes on how he used the different shaped swords to figure out the best shape for the Bowblade. It would have to be slightly curved to imitate the shape of a bow but not too much, so he was still able to properly use them. He also made notes of how Runaan held the blades and for which maneuvers he changed his grip on the handles.

When the fighters took a break to get something to drink, he already started to sketch out some rough design drafts and contemplated over the best mechanism to attach the blades in the middle. It wouldn’t be easy, but Tinker loved a challenge. Especially when the challenge included a handsome elf, he had now an excuse to come and watch as much as he pleased.

When the three soldiers left for their quarters and Runaan came walking over, he had over eight pages worth of sketches and notes. He felt a blush creeping on his cheeks and ears as the Assassin glimpsed on one of the pages and immediately complimented his drawing skills. They parted after a quick chat where Tinker announced he would come around some more times before starting on the final draft.

Once home, he reopened the sketchbook and admired Runaan’s swift moving body until he fell asleep.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does someone have a crush?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not only their collaborative project makes progress.

Tinker appeared on two more trainings before the new Recruits arrived. He still had a shop to run after all. He'd already designed and re-designed several blade types that he thought could work but every time he found something that could still be improved. The smith finally settled on a slightly curved design that would positively contribute to the bow shape and crafted two simple training swords that he balanced like the ones Runaan was currently using. He found the other elf favored a surprisingly heavy hilt, but it worked well with the twirling fighting style he had.

He arrived just as the Assassin was starting to teach his course and silently slipped past any training soldiers to his spot on the wall surrounding the pit. He placed the blades next to him before taking out his sketchbook and doing some warm-up sketches of the tall elf and the recruits surrounding him. Most of them were twitchy and he had fun drawing their subtle movements.

After a while, he realised that the group would block his sight of Runaan if he stayed on his current perch, so he moved to the side of the pit to sit down right next to the bordering stones. Tinker was sure to be as silent and discreet as he could about it to not disturb the training. It didn’t really look like any of the Recruits had noticed him but Runaan’s gaze swept over him occasionally.

Elf after elf filled the space in front of him until the full group was assembled. In the corner of his eye, he could see a familiar figure entering the academy as he held his opening monologue and couldn’t within looking over to the smith every once in a while. He showed and explained them a few basic moves they had to recite before he let them train in pairs. When everyone was partnered up, he walked through the rows, correcting their stances while slowly making his way towards Tinker. When he almost reached the other elf, a pair of his recruits came a little too close to the edge of the pit and a wooden sword was suddenly racing towards the smith’s head. He was just about to shout a warning as the others hand shot up and caught the weapon in an iron grip. He was still sketching with the other hand and didn’t even look mildly surprised. Runaan had to restrain himself to not stare dumbstruck like the two recruits. “I’m sorry!” the one that was still holding the other end of the sword stuttered, looking at the smith as if he’d appeared out of nowhere. “No harm done.” Tinker replied evenly, letting go of the wooden blade. By now, Runaan had reached the three and ushered the two young elves further into the pit. “Always be aware of your surroundings!” he waited for their “Yes, Sir!”s before turning to the elf on the floor with a smirk. “Nice reflexes.”

Tinker grinned, reaching for the two dulled blades next to him. “Thanks. I made some prototypes. Can you train with them today so I can see what I have to change?” Runaan took the simple blades and gave them a few test twirls, surprised by their perfect balance. “Of course. I will try to keep them away from you so you can work in peace.” He promised before rounding the Recruits up to announce the next exercise. He chose their best one to show the next moves and was pleased with the movement of the twin blades.

Although slightly unfamiliar, they somehow felt right in his hands. Sometime during his training with the new group, Tinker left but returned for his evening training. This time, he stayed longer until Runaan began shooting when his training partners left. He could feel the other’s gaze on him as he shot arrow after arrow while leaping over the obstacle course installed on one side of the yard. Once he was done, tinker approached him, sketchbook securely tucked under his arm. “You said I could take a look at your actual weapons?” After plugging his Arrows out of the targets he’d been shooting at, he nodded. “Of course, if they help you in any way.”

The smith beamed at him. “Great! Would you mind showing me them today? If you don’t have any plans that is?” he was a little surprised at the suddenness of the request but readily agreed. “I’m free tonight. It’s just a short walk from here.” Runaan thought about changing back into his uniform but decided against it. The night was warm and no one would come across them on their way to his house.

They walked in comfortable silence with Tinker occasionally asking about colour and material preferences. He seemed to take the answers rather seriously and nodded thoughtfully after every inquiry. Soon, they reached the little clearing next to the road where his house was half-hidden between some trees. Due to the dark one couldn’t see the targets and dummies lined up in the otherwise empty garden behind the house. He unlocked the front door and lighted some oil lamps after motioning for the smith to follow him inside.

Upon entering, Tinker immediately noticed the classy emptiness that was so different to his own messy home. After stepping through the door, he found himself next to a small kitchen area. Discreetly, he took in the contents of said kitchen while Runaan lighted some oil lamps along the walls. A bowl of fruit, some jars with dried herbs, a loaf of bread and a half-full bottle Whisky were strewn across the counter. He quickly snapped his gaze back on his host as he sensed the other coming back. The training room that began once you left the kitchen was huge and well equipped with weapons and targets. Runaan then opened his arms, gesturing in the general direction of the walls. “Please, be my guest. The rest is upstairs, we can go there later. Would you like something to drink?”  

Tinker only nodded absently and barely noticed the other leaving, so engrossed was he in the numerous weapons. One after the other, he picked them up, examining the balance points and their general weight while taking notes in a new little notebook he’d brought specifically for that purpose. He was just twirling a long spear with a two-sided blade as his host reappeared with a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Are you able to fight?” Runaan asked curiously as he handed him the wine motioning for the spear. “You seem to handle weapons really well.”

Tink shrugged, taking a sip. The wine wasn’t strong, but he could still taste the faint note of alcohol through the fruity aroma. “I can fight, yes. Not as well as your Assassins of course but I know how to defend myself. I did my time at the border. Though I prefer not to fight.” A smile appeared on Runaan’s face as he placed his empty cup on a side table. “Now I’m curious. Would you care for a little sparring match?” “Only if I get to use the spear.” Tinker grinned; it had been too long since he had a friendly sparring match. Placing his vest on the side, he did some more twirling with the spear until the Assassin came back with a long wooden staff. They circled each other for a while until Runaan struck, aiming for his shoulder. He parried, followed by a blow to the knee that his opponent only barley avoided. “You are faster than I thought.” He laughed, smiling brightly before attacking again. Tinker had fun even though he knew the other was probably holding back and from the occasional friendly laugh, Runaan seemed to enjoy himself as well. After a while, he noticed himself getting slower and the other seemed to notice it as well since he adjusted his speed a little before finally stopping.

Runaan was still smiling brightly as he took back the spear to place it on its hook on the wall. “I hope you don’t feel offended if I say that you fight far better than I expected.” With a laugh, he shook his head and continued to examine the other weapons. “No, not at all. I’m really no fighter. I only train with the weapons I create for research purposes.” He could feel the other elf chuckle behind him before he appeared at his side, wine glass in hand. “A pity. I would have loved to let you train with my year three students just to see the look on their faces when they lose.” He had to laugh at that. Apparently, the Assassin had far more humor than people gave him credit for.

Tink continued to examine the weapons until he had taken notes on every single one while being watched by the soldier who was leaning against the wall, sipping his wine. He offered Tinker a refill when he announced that the was done and motioned for the spiral staircase in the corner. “The rest is upstairs.” They ascended the set of stairs together up to the second floor that partly overlooked the training room and also seemed to lead to a balcony. Upon stepping on the platform, he could see a wide bed at the far end of the room. Next to it on the wall were to identical curved blades that looked well-used but sharp. They were fastened in a way that allowed them to be grabbed quickly and low enough to be reached from the bed. Above them was a sleek bow and a quiver full of arrows could be found leaning against the wall.

Runaan offered him a seat at his worktable that overlooked the training room and climbed on the bed in order to get his blades and bow. Tinker spun the blades for a few times and took, this time more elaborate, notes on their balance and overall weight. It turned out his prototypes were already pretty close size and weight wise but bore a different shape. The ones he held now where mostly straight and slightly curved at the top, also allowing them to be used with a reverse grip.

While he was scribbling down notes, he could see the Assassin moving towards a large wooden wardrobe from the corner of his eyes. A glimpse into the opened door told him it almost exclusively consisted of uniforms and various armour parts. After looking through one of the piles, Runaan took out a sleeveless light grey shirt that he replaced with the one he was currently wearing. It was form fitting with a low-cut V-neck so that his chest mark was still visible. The dirty shirt was placed in the wash basket with a quick throw.

Once he turned towards him again, Tinker quickly averted his eyes and focused back on his sketchbook where he realized to his own horror, that he’d been sketching the other. Hastily, he turned to the next page to continue his notes and prayed Runaan hadn’t seen them.

The sketchbook itself was incriminating enough by now with all the sketches he’d done of the Assassin that couldn’t possibly be justified with fight studies.

“That should have been all.” He said, leaning against the desk. Runaan glanced down at the sketchbook. “You made a lot of drawings so far, judging by the page you’re on.” Tinker’s gaze also fell on the sketchbook that was now two-thirds filled with sketches and notes. ”I like drawing people and weapons, it helps me visualize my thoughts. Though some pages are mostly notes.”

“Still” Runaan said thoughtfully “It’s a great talent to have. May I see the sketches from today’s training? I’m really curious.” The smith immediately froze for a few seconds, staring at the blank page in front of him. He replayed every sketch he’d made that day and finally decided they were not that incriminating. “Uh, sure.” He then opened the first page from that day, careful to avoid the last one. The first was the group picture of the Assassin and new recruits. Runaan turned on his perch on the desk until he was halfway leaning over Tink’s shoulder. “You are really good at capturing their expressions. Here, like the slight panic in Kato’s and the pride in Luna’s face.” He pointed at two of the black and white figures. “You already know their names?” Tink wondered. After all it had been their first meeting. “Yes, of course. I expect them to address me properly so I should be able to do the same.” The smith nodded and continued to turn the pages, that made sense.

Sometimes Runaan would stop him to examine a sketch further but otherwise they stayed silent. He closed the sketchbook just before reaching the last page and moved to stand up. He felt a slight tingle from the second glass of wine on an empty stomach as he stood but his host didn’t seem to be affected at all as Runaan gracefully hopped down from his seat on the desk. “Thank you for showing me the weapons on such short notice.”

A smile appeared on the Assassin’s face, lighting up the aristocratic features. “My pleasure. I really enjoyed working with you so far.” He could basically feel his heart beating out of his chest at the warm tone. God he was falling too hard too fast.

Before he could make a complete fool of himself, Tink toned his grin down a bit and stepped out of the door. “Yeah, me too. I will tell you once the next prototype is done. Goodnight.”

“Good Night.” Runaan’s melodic voice followed him out into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah poor Tink but who could blame him?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tinker is an Elf of many Talents. Kira loves to nag her General.

In the following weeks, Tinker often watched the Assassin’s training whenever he had to think about the project undisturbed. Somehow it inspired him to see Runaan moving around his sparring partners or dummies with the grace of a panther, deadly but beautiful. In turn, the other visited him in the shop as often as his shifts allowed, always bringing food with him to share. They often chatted over the meals, exchanging stories from their day. Sometimes Tinker would talk about a new project or how the bow blade was coming along and sometimes Runaan would complain about his recruits or report any funny accidents that had happened during training. It was a nice routine both of them enjoyed as a diversion from their regular day’s work.

That day, Tink was on his way to the assassin’s house to deliver the newest prototype he’d made. It was the second one where the hilts could be joined to form a bow and he had worked on the connective mechanism and the string that now retracted through moon-stone magic. It had been a little bit difficult to incorporate them in a functional way, but his magic was good enough to make it work.

According to the plan Runaan had given him, the other would be currently training alone at home. He found it very useful to have such a good knowledge on his whereabouts because it allowed him to find the Assassin at any time. Very early he had noticed that Runaan never strayed from his plan, ever. He was always right where he was supposed to be and did the things he was supposed to do. That elf was much more like clockwork than a living being, and still, Tink had to admit it was a little more than a crush he harvested for the tall soldier.

Upon arriving at the lonely house, he took the time to look around the clearing before knocking. Now that there was still daylight, he could see a training course set up in the backyard with several plateaus and targets installed in the trees at the edge of the clearing. He could hear a stream running in the distance as he raised his hand to announce his arrival. A shout of acknowledgement and a few seconds later, the door opened and revealed a slightly panting Runaan with sweat glistering on his bare torso. Ah, right, training. His overwhelmed brain managed to puzzle together while the smith just stared, mouth half-opened with a greeting that got stuck in his throat. The Assassin seemed to interpret his silence as shock and glanced down at himself before stepping aside to let him in. “Um, do you want to come in?” he asked with as much uncertainty as Tink had ever heard in his voice. He just nodded and followed the other inside.

Runaan was in the middle of his afternoon workout as he heard a knock on the door. Without a thought, he dropped down from the bar he was currently doing pull-ups on and jogged to the door. In front of him stood Tinker, his eyes wide open and still as a statue. He wondered for a brief second why the other was so put out before he noticed his state of dress. Slowly, he looked down at himself. For his training at home, he only ever dressed in wide dark linen pants that allowed him free range and were sufficiently cool. His hair was pulled up into a messy bun to be out of the way and relatively safe from damage. Now, Runaan could see sweat running down the skin between his muscles and staining the hem of the dark blue fabric. Not a great state to greet guests in. Especially not that guest. He was still working on discreetly testing whether the other was also interested before he would start his advances.

Feeling the blush creeping on his face, Tinker quickly averted his gaze from the other as he followed him into the training room. Though he couldn’t within to admire Runaan’s defined shoulders. Training all day seemed to pay off. He also could pride himself with pretty well-trained arms and shoulders due to handling a heavy hammer and other tools for the most part of the day but the Assassin seemed to be solely muscle. Lean muscle that was but he didn’t doubt his strength for a second. No, it looked like Runaan was nothing besides it. He couldn’t even find a place where it looked like the other had at least a tiny bit of fat. Suddenly, Tinker found himself worrying if the soldier ate enough. It was true that he never saw him refuse to eat but with the amount of movement and energy he must burn every day, the smith was sure he should probably eat twice as much as he could see him consume.

He was pulled from his daydream when Runaan asked him whether he wanted a drink. “Yes, please. I brought a new prototype for you to test.” The assassin nodded and retrieved two glasses from the cupboard. “Wine or Whisky?” Tink settled for Wine as he wasn’t one for strong liquors. He immediately recognized it as the same he’d had when he first visited and was mildly surprised that the other apparently remembered that. His host carried a glass of whisky to the seating area of the kitchen and excused himself to reappear a few moments later with a silky teal robe draped across his shoulders.

For a second, Runaan had thought about getting a shirt but finally decided against it in favor of the thin robe. That way, he could further study the smith’s reaction. After all, he hadn’t looked that appalled by the sight and he wanted to be completely sure before launching any serious flirting attempts.

“So,” he started, taking a sip from his glass “you made a new version?” at that, the smith’s face lit up and he hurriedly placed a bundle on the table while narrowly missing the wine glass in front of him. “Yes! I changed the mechanisms, so you should be able to connect them faster and added a self-retractable string.” Tinker showed him the process a few times, so he was able to memorize it and finally handed it over. Runaan was careful to recite the exact motions and repeated it until he felt like he’d be able to do it mid motion without any difficulty.

Tinker watched curiously as the other dis- and reassembled it over and over, getting a little faster each time. After a while, Runaan nodded and stood from his seat, draping the robe over one of the chairs. He assembled the Bow and took a few arrows out of the numerous tubes at the wall. Once he tested the string, the Assassin aimed the first one and hit the right upper corner of the second ring on one of the targets. He then adjusted his grip a little and landed the next three in the bullseye. With a smirk, he stepped further into the training room and broke the weapon into it’s two parts, twirling them around to test their weight. Tink had meanwhile gathered his sketchbook and made some notes on what he would still have to change later. “It’s much better than the first one.” Runaan grinned and vanished behind a curtain of rapidly moving steel. The smith had to roll his eyes at the little show-off but smiled as he saw how excited the other was about the new prototype. The Assassin continued to recite different maneuvres and gave him a very good view at his toned physique. He was sure to be able to see every muscle work while he jumped this way and that, always fighting an imaginary foe in the process.

“Would you spar with me?” came the sudden request from one of the beams Runaan had climbed using the curved blades as ice-picks. “Sure” Tinker left his sketchbook and shirt after a second thought and joined the other. He chose the spear again, being familiar with it’s movement before turning towards his host. “But please refrain from damaging me. I still have orders to complete tomorrow.” The Assassin laughed and placed a hand over his chest mark. “I would never intentionally hurt you.” Tink had to smile at that but couldn’t help his reply. “Please also don’t hurt me unintentionally.” Again, a short laugh. It was a sound the smith rarely heard from his opponent and he was almost certain other elves heard it even less. Still, he loved the sound of it and always enjoyed it when he managed to extract some of this precious laughter.

They sparred until both of them were drenched in sweat but neither made a move to stop. The duo had found their rhythm some time ago and now exchanged skilful blows without really having to fear the other wouldn’t parry it in time. Suddenly, a frantic knock sounded from the door and both immediately froze in place. Whoever was out there seemed to be in panic. “Stay here.” Runaan ordered and set one of the blades aside to open the door. The other stayed in his hand.

Outside stood a soldier in uniform and looked like he had been running all the way from the academy. He began babbling something about an emergency until Runaan’s icy “Soldier, report!” spurred him into a quick but now structured report of what was happening. “Sir, one of the chief moon-priests is held hostage by bandits, you and squadron twelve are ordered to launch a rescue mission immediately. Your soldiers are already waiting at the academy and are ready to depart, Sir.” From one second to the other, every bit of joy was erased from the Assassins face. “How far?” he inquired while motioning for the soldier to step inside and jogging over to the staircase in the corner. “About half-an hour march, Sir.” Tink could see him nodding to himself before he reached the top of the stairs and was out of view. “How many enemies?” came his steel-like voice from above. “We think about two dozen, Sir. But at least ten.” Silence followed and the only noises that reached them were the sound of water running and the ruffling of fabric.

Tinker could feel the soldier regarding him with a curious look as soon as he’d been spotted. The smith was still shirtless and holding the spear in his right hand. He immediately prayed to the moon and all the sources that the soldier would be discreet enough to keep the encounter to himself. The last thing he needed was the rumour going around that they were an item. Especially after Runaan had expressed on several occasions on how much he valued his privacy.

No four minutes passed before the Assassin rappelled down a rope fastened to one of the beams not even bothering with the stairs. He was now dressed in the squadron’s blue-green uniform with the commander’s rank pauldron fastened on his shoulder and his hair styled the way he usually wore it. The two swords that were fastened above his bed dangled from his hips and a quiver obstructed the view of his back.  “Venu, tell the twelfth that I will meet them outside the Academy in a few minutes. Give Kira any information you have at hand.” The soldier saluted swiftly and rushed out the door “Yes, Sir.” Once he was gone, Runaan grimaced and turned to him again. “I’m sorry. I think it will take three hours at most. If you want, you can wait here, and we can talk about changes when I’m back.” His look was far more apologetic than Tink had thought. “Don’t worry. I don’t want to impose; we could also meet tomorrow.” He carefully leaned the spear against the wall and walked with the assassin to the door. “Please?” Runaan asked again, motioning for the kitchen “Feel free to help yourself to anything you like. I will be back as soon as I can.” With that, he wanted to turn and run after his soldier, but the smith caught his arm to hold him back. “Wait!” he placed a thin silver bracelet in the others hand “For good luck.” A slight smile appeared on Runaan’s face before he finally dashed out the door, leaving a confused Tinker behind.

He reached the Academy in what must have been record time and found Venu still talking to Kira when he arrived. He took her aside for a moment to discuss what other intel there was regarding their mission and pointedly ignored all her knowing glances. “Squadron!” He addressed the six elves in front of him. “I assume you all have been briefed about this mission. We will try to reach the perimeter as fast as we can while our council launches negotiations to keep them occupied. We will find a strategy once we are there and know exactly what we have to work with, understood?” satisfied, he listened to the synched “Yes, Sir.” And lead the way to the bandit’s camp.

He was used to run a little in front of his squadron to scout for possible threats while the twins usually covered the back. This time, Kira quickly caught up to run beside him. “You seem even sterner today. Did you get interrupted on your date?” Her tone was equally mocking as it was curious. He made a mental note to scare Venu to death for telling her that. No one in the squadron loved gossip as much as she did. “It wasn’t a date, but I guess I have to lecture Venu about privacy again.” Even though he wasn’t looking at her, Runaan could feel her raising her eyebrow. “Then why were you both shirtless?” Great, she knew that, too. That bastard was so going to get a few very disliked shifts the next month. “Because Tinker brought a new prototype to test and we were sparring in order to do that.”

“I wasn’t aware the handsome smith could also fight. You got yourself an all-round talent there, hotshot.” He rolled his eyes but willed his voice to be as even as possible before answering. “Don’t call me that. I am your superior officer. And you would be surprised. I would say he’d win against my year three’s with ease.” She just snorted and continued to stay by his side “We both know you like it. So, any other hidden talents? How does he look shirtless? I bet he’s hot with that biceps and all.” After that, Runaan almost tripped over a branch. He could feel a slight blush on his cheeks and saw his marks taking a darker shade. Immediately, he willed them back to their normal purple colour, but he was sure Kira had noticed the slight change nonetheless. “I don’t know how that would concern you. And I would strongly advise you to drop that matter if you don’t want to have the four am shift for the next month.” The elf knew when she'd lost the fight and slowly fell back to the rest of the group, shit eating grin never leaving her face. He could already feel the gossip magnifying. The delicate silver bracelet he’d tucked securely under his left bracer buzzed a little at his use of magic to control his markings. He briefly wondered if it was also magic. Something he’d have to ask Tinker later.

It turned out be thirteen enemies and two hostages, both of which they managed to retrieve unharmed. His soldiers were unscathed or only sported minor injuries. Runaan had somehow managed to achieve a flesh wound on his right shoulder while pushing the high priest very unceremoniously to the ground to avoid an arrow. Other than that, he was mostly fine besides a few shallow cuts and bruises.

 The Assassin ended up coming back after only one and a half hours. Meanwhile Tinker had used the time to complete his notes and explored the house some more. Besides the large training room, it was very minimalistic. The basement was a simple storage cellar for a surprising amount of wine and liquor or vegetables from which he took a cucumber up in the kitchen to eat. The second floor had just one room besides the platform that housed the other’s bed and desk. The bathroom was small but nice with a large bathtub and a sink. Both of them seemed to be connected to a water tank because there was running water when he opened the faucet. Tink greatly enjoyed the view from the large second floor balcony and took the time for a few sketches of the woods before returning to the kitchen table.

When Runaan opened the door an hour later, he had just finished his next draft, including the notes of what he needed to adjust and nursed his second glass of wine. He immediately got up at the sound of the door and searched the other for injuries. Narrowing his eyes as they found the shoulder wound. “You’re hurt.” He wanted to take a closer look, but the Assassin only brushed him off. “It’s nothing. Just a bandage and it will be fine in a few days.”

“At least let me do it. I know a few things about healing. I think you might need stitches.” For a moment Runaan looked like he wanted to object but simply nodded after a few seconds. “The supplies are in the second drawer under the sink. I will just change out of this uniform.” Tink found a very well-equipped box of medical supplies and pain medication and brought everything back to the kitchen table to search for the things he needed. As the other came back, now shirtless again for better access to the wound, he had everything he needed laid out on the table. Runaan refilled both their glasses, Tink’s with the wine and his with Whisky before taking a seat on one of the chairs. “It will burn a bit.” He announced before dabbing alcohol onto the wound in order to disinfect it properly. He could feel the other tensing a little but otherwise, the Assassin didn’t let on if he was in pain. His stitches were neat and strong, and Tinker was suddenly thankful for a mother who had been a healer and taught him a lot when he was younger. He securely wrapped a bandage around it and also disinfected the other, more shallow cuts before storing the supplies away. “Thank you.” Runaan’s voice sounded sincere and there was a tiny smile on his lips.

“Any other hidden talents?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love reviews! Also if you came over from tumblr this is the last chapter you should've been able to read there! You're now up to date on the story:)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan makes a discovery. He has yet to decide if it's a good or bad one. Kira is very amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you came from tumblr, this chapter is new for you! Enjoy;)

Once Tinker left that night, he took some time to clean the kitchen and return all of his equipment to their respective places. An eventful day after all. Even though the interruption was inconvenient, he wouldn’t say it was for nothing. It gave him the chance to find out more about Tinker. Although the smith was always happy to talk about his work and life it was still nice to get to see more than the occasional glimpse of the other’s prior life. He examined the pristine white bandage that was now halfway obscured by his shirt sleeve. Pretty good work on the stitches, he had to admit. Far better than if he’d done it himself.

When he moved to go to bed, his eyes found something lying on one of the kitchen chairs that was not supposed to be there. A sketchbook. Tinkers sketchbook. The smith must have left it there, most likely accidentally by the way he usually guarded his drawings. Runaan picked it up, running his hands over the, by now, worn leather cover. He’d seen the outside of it more times than he cared to count but actually only saw the drawings twice.

With a hum, the Assassin turned it over, examining every crease while making his way to the upstairs balcony. Somehow, he felt like he was violating the other’s privacy by looking at it, as if he wasn’t meant to see the content even though it was literally about his order. Sitting down on the cushions, he set the book aside, drawing his legs up. The woods were quiet, peaceful even. Stars glistered in the dark, cloudless sky, illuminating the large oak trees. On the horizon, he could see the faint red light of the breach where Xadia ended and the human kingdoms began.

His gaze traveled back to the sketchbook. Curiosity finally getting the better of him, Runaan took it again, opening the first page. There were several sketches of his training weapons including notes on what Tinker had estimated their weight and general size to be. The following pages included motion drawings of himself from the first training and he had to admire the way the images seemed alive rather than simple depictions. More sketches of either his weapons or himself were scattered along the first half of the book, occasionally filled in with notes or doodles of random objects. He even found a little drawing of his belt buckle in the corner of one page.

The second half of the book consisted mostly of drawings of himself fighting but there were also some portraits and other scenes like him surrounded by his students. The feeling of disturbing the others privacy returned. Somehow the more recent ones felt more intimate, less detached like the weapon sketches, the lines more blurred and rushed. He had to smile as he reached the drawing of his recruits on their first day of training.  They all looked so incredibly young even though he was only a few years their senior. Experience let one age faster than time.

Then Runaan turned the page and stopped, drawing in a sharp breath.  The sketch was rushed, charcoal smeared across some parts of the page where Tinkers hand had been, but it was unmistakably him.  His bare back was turned to the observer, the outlines of his wardrobe visible in the background. The smith must have made it when he'd changed. With merely a few seconds to complete it, he was amazed by the detail even though some lines looked like they had been added at a later point. Tink had captured every crease of his muscles, including the scars.

Something in his gut twisted. His blood suddenly seemed to boil, rushing through his ears as Runaan tried to process what he was obviously looking at. He forgot to breathe. Was the smith really having similar feelings for him? The rushed and expressive black lines would probably tell as much to an objective observer. However, Runaan was far from objective. To be concrete, he was about as far from objective as one could possibly be in that matter. Shit. What was he supposed to do now? Say something? Pretend he hadn't seen it?

With shaking hands, he downed a large gulp from the wine glass by his side, holding onto it for dear life. What if the other had left it on purpose and meant to drop a hint? What if he was misinterpreting everything? He would make a compete fool of himself should he pursue this and his feelings weren't reciprocated.

He needed advice. A neutral party that possessed more knowledge about this kind of thing than he did.  Granted, that wouldn't be that hard given his zero experience in relationships. But who could he ask? Who could be trusted?

Kira. She loved to gossip but he knew she would keep quiet of he asked her to. She also seemed to possess a great deal of motherly advice.  If he remembered correctly, and he always did, she had just finished her shift. That meant if he left now, he could probably still catch her. A few moments later he was on his way, dressed in his training clothes and uniform coat book carefully stuffed in a bag. If he was gonna take a blow on his Pride for asking for her help, at least not the whole squadron had to know. 

Runaan hesitated for a second before knocking on her door contemplating if it really was a good idea. Before he could revise his decision, the door opened, and a female fighter whisked past him. Momentarily stunned, he stayed planted in the doorway dumbfounded. “Was that-?” he began pointing the direction the other had vanished “Akila? Then, yes.” When he didn't budge or made a move to close the door again, Kira came walking towards him, leaning against the door frame. “What are you doing here anyway? I thought you had training to do in the morning. It's way past midnight.”

Runaan swallowed “I- I need your help.” Something about his expression must have been really desperate because she immediately made way for him to enter and drew the door shut behind her.  “What got you so spooked? Should I prepare to hide a dozen bodies? You never come to me for help.” Instead of answering, he shoved the sketchbook in her hands, already opened on the page that caused him such distress. “Oh wow that's kinda hot and I'm not even into-“ she paused looking him up and down and then back to the drawing “wait, that's - that's you?” he nodded faintly, panic raising again. “By the Moon who drew that?” Kira sounded oddly fascinated by the situation. Maybe it had been a bad idea asking her after all. Bullshit, he scolded himself, there was no going back now. 

“Uh” he started, trying to look anywhere but her face “That's, um, that's actually why I'm here. You see-“

“OH MY GOD! It was the smith, right? The hot one?” definitely a bad idea coming here.  “Yes?” she basically vibrated on the spot of pure excitement. “Wait-“ the soldier scrunched her eyebrows “Does he know you've seen it?”

“I-I don't think so?” where was his composure for Moon's sake? At any given time, he was able to scare a grown mountain lion to death and now there he was, stammering because of some drawing he’d found. Pathetic.

Kira focused her attention back on the sketchbook, taking a closer look. “Damn, he’s really good. And that guy definitely has a thing for you.” His heart threatened to leap from his rib cage. “You think?” What was suddenly wrong with his voice? Why did he sound like being strangled? She regarded him with a doubtful expression. “Are you kidding me?”

Runaan had to grimace. Maybe running into his own sword later wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. She shook her head with an exasperated sigh and ushered him to sit down on the edge of her bed. Then, she pulled a bottle of wine from beneath her mattress, took a swig and shoved it into his hands before flopping down next to him. He eyed the vessel “You know, if I were on duty, I would have to report that.”

“Firstly, you are not. Secondly, I know where you hide your booze, too and you would never rat anyone out.” The Assassin huffed but kept quiet. She was right. “So I am guessing correctly that you just found this-“ Kira gestured at the sketchbook “- and panicked because you don’t know what to make of it.”

“I didn’t panic.” Again, the eyebrows. “Uh huh, and you didn’t immediately came running here either, right?” defeated, Runaan dropped his head, free hand clutching at his face with a groan. “Fine. I panicked.” There was no way his dignity could take more severe blow that night. “Do you like him?” He busied himself with taking a couple heathy swigs from the bottle before answering, stalling as long as he could. “Maybe?”

“I will take that as a yes.” Kira decided, snatching the wine back to sip on it. “Now, what do you need my help for?”

“I, um-“ he began, suddenly grateful for the lack of light so she couldn’t see the violent blush that crept on his face. “I, I don’t know what to do.” Now it was Runaan’s turn to liberate the bottle. “I have no idea how relationships work.” The confession seemed to surprise her. Closing the sketchbook, Kira pulled her legs up and turned to face him. “So, you’ve never…” the question was almost expected at this point. “What? No, I mean yes. I’ve been through about half of the stronghold’s garrison in the two months I stayed there after getting promoted lieutenant but those were one-time arrangements.”

“You slept with half of the border guard and never told me?!” why was she upset about that of all things? “Uh, why would I tell that to anyone? It doesn’t really ensure respect you know.” Kira playfully shoved his shoulder, almost sending him tumbling to the floor by sheer force of it. “And there I thought you were Mr. Professional, always playing by the rules.” He huffed, that was the exact reason he hadn’t told her before. “I am. I never fraternized with anyone in our unit or under my command. My stay at the border was purely as a consultant. Could we get back to my actual problem?” She regarded him with a shit-eating grin but refrained from making any more comments. Runaan chose to ignore her, focusing his attention on the wine instead. “What do you want to know?” there was a sudden seriousness about her tone, persuading him to answer. “How do I determine if he’s also interested? I think he is, or I hope, but how can I be sure?”

“I’m pretty sure the attraction is mutual. I mean that-“ Kira gestured to where she’d placed the book “-that is more than obvious.” He looked down, examining his hands that messed with the wine label. “Okay.”

Next to him, the soldier cocked her head “Okay? That’s it?” Inhale. Exhale. Swig of the wine. Inhale. “What do I do about it? The oath forbids me from committing into a serious relationship.” that was the real question. How was one supposed to court another elf if you weren’t supposed to have relationships in the first place? Kira waved her had dismissively. “You aren’t allowed to marry. The rest is more or less a grey zone. Nobody would care if you don’t go parading it around town. And even if you did, what are they supposed to do about it? De-rank you? They wouldn’t dare.” She had a point. Strictly prohibited were only marriages and he was valuable enough to the squadron to get away with a little dating. And if he didn’t, Runaan wouldn’t mind being a regular soldier again, truth be told. Technical issues aside, they were back to the part that frightened him most. Emotions. He didn’t know how to deal with them alone. How was he supposed to do that with Tinker present?

“Then, uh, how-how would you proceed?” he felt pathetic. Asking for help for something as simple as that. Just that it wasn’t all that simple. Not to him anyways. “That highly depends on what you are aiming for.” Kira was back to her consultant voice, narrowing her eyes on his hands that still held onto the bottle for dear life. Yes, he was that nervous. “You could just go and confront him the next time you see each other. Or you could ask him out. You could also always drop a few hints if you want to stay on the safe side.” Runaan contemplated the implied question for a couple of moments. Confronting the smith was out of the question. He would never get himself to do that. “The latter?” he finally decided, chasing the knot in his stomach with a few mouthfuls of wine. “How good is your flirting?” Runaan almost choked on the sweet liquid. “Uhm not, ah-not very good?” he'd never tried to flirt with someone before in his life. Not really. Not like he meant it. How was he supposed to know that? “Show me” of course she would demand that. It had been a terrible idea coming here.

“I'd rather not?” he was aware that his protest was weak, not actually trying even but he'd known Kira for long enough to see that he'd lost that argument the moment she set her mind on it. She managed to be persuasive even when his mind wasn't dulled by the effects of blood loss, if only minor, and alcohol. “Show me” the elf repeated “I won’t judge.”

Ah, screw it, he thought. That night he'd already left his dignity with his coat at the door. If any part of this conversation ever left this room, he had to murder her, the whole squadron and then himself.

Runaan stood, slightly dizzy from the quick motion, and forced the most charming smile he could muster onto his face. The formal bow was executed to perfection even though he felt like tipping to the side halfway through. “Mylady, your uniform looks lovely tonight, would you care for a dance?” flopping down onto his seat again, the Assassin had to blink a few times, willing the dancing lines out of his vision. “That wasn’t actually half bad.” She allowed “If you'd wanted to hook up with my grandmother that is.” He groaned “Kira, I told you I don’t know how to do that.”

“Okay, okay. Just, you know. Try to be less uptight.”

“What?” how was that supposed to help him? “You know the whole Assassin scheme you’ve got going on? Try to be more approachable.”

“I am approachable. I just like my privacy.” She snorted, regarding him doubtfully. “You love your privacy more than your swords and I’ve seen you sleep with them. You know, all the recruits are terrified of you.” That made him pause. He didn’t intend to scare anyone away. “I did nothing to scare them. Not intentionally.” Something in her expression changed to a fond smile. “No, but they fear what they do not know. And your reputation exceeds you.” That actually made a lot of sense. Though he wouldn’t change himself just for the sake of his recruits. If they couldn’t handle him here, how were they supposed to endure their mission if time came? “I still don’t see how this is supposed to help me with my problem.” In truth, he could guess what she was going for but far too proud to admit that she might be right. Kira cocked her head, regarding him with a thoughtful gaze “Yeah, you do.” When he didn’t answer for a couple of minutes, she finally took pity on him. “If I were in your place, I would try to drop a few hints that are obvious enough to actually register but not too straightforward, so you don’t give your intentions away directly.” Runaan nodded. That was a good plan. This way he’d be on the safe side should his feelings turned out to be one sided, but he was still doing something about it instead of cowardly waiting for the other to make a move. And if he prided himself to be one thing, it was not a coward. He’d fought dark mages and other creatures; how hard could it be to flirt?

Very hard, the little nagging voice in his head immediately supplied. “What kind of hints are we talking about?” She would surely have a few examples? Maybe even some that were applicable in his case. “Oh I don’t know,” she shrugged “Maybe pay a few compliments, get some flowers. Things civilians do to woo someone.” How should he know what civilians were doing to woo someone? The Assassin grew up in a Fort after all. Surrounded by soldiers since a young age. He knew nothing about normal people. “Compliments? I did already compliment him.” Somehow, he couldn’t stop his voice from sounding a little proud. So he’d subconsciously done the right things. Kira was not convinced “On his skills or his appearance?” that was an odd question “His skills of course. Both as a smith and craftsman and as a fighter.” One of her white eyebrows was raised skeptically “Of course. Instead of praising his work all the time you could throw in something like ‘Your eyes look lovely’ occasionally.” Runaan briefly thought about Tinker’s eyes. They were beautiful. Their colour was a dark honey which was unusual among Moonshadow elves and little specks of gold sparkled in them whenever he talked about something that excited him. Dark and warm, he always felt a little flutter in his chest when he looked into them for too long.

Next to him, Kira coughed audibly. Apparently, his thoughts hadn’t been so brief. “Yes” he managed, slightly jostled from his daydream. “Yes, I can do that.” Or he hoped he could.

“Okay Loverboy,” Kira got up from her perch, ushering him to the door. “I have a guard shift in the morning, and I am pretty sure there will be recruits waiting for you in a few hours.” Of course, it was late. He hadn’t meant to keep her up that long. Hell he hadn’t meant to stay up that long himself. “Yeah, yeah you are right.” The sketchbook was shoved back into his hands, but she shook her head as he tried to hand her the wine “You need that more than me.” Runaan nodded. He did. It was mostly empty by now anyways. “Thank you for your help.” A smile spread on her lips “No problem but I expect updates now.” Of course, she would. He nodded, not quite able to suppress a slight groan. “Hn, if you insist.” The grin turned feral “Oh I do.” And the door closed in his face before the General could say anymore.

A quick glance around him assured that there was no one around besides the two guards at the gate. When he closed the door to his quarters behind him, Runaan was almost certain he’d been undetected. Not that he would mind but someone seeing their general leave one of his soldiers’ rooms in the middle of the night did look suspicious.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the downward spiral begins...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please mind the WARNINGS! There will be Violence and Drug/Alcohol Abuse in this one. If you are sensitive to that, please do NOT PROCEED. Thank you^^

The next morning, Runaan woke to the first sun-rays shining into his face. He opened his eyes only to immediately screw them shut again at the bright pain that erupted in his head. He tried again, shielding them with his arm and glanced around the room. In the distance, he could hear bells ringing; half past seven. His recruits would arrive in half an hour and he wasn't even dressed yet. Or he was but the Assassin wouldn't exactly call his sweaty blue linen pants ‘dressed'. He detangled himself from the sheets to stand but didn't make it past the sitting position, nausea keeping him glued on the spot.  
For a moment, Runaan felt like throwing up but a few deep breaths managed to steady him enough to squint the dancing stars from his vision. Slowly, he stood and covered the distance to his bathroom in a couple stumbling steps. Besides the general paleness and faint dark smudges, his face looked thankfully normal. A few splashes of cold water cleared some of the fogginess in his brain and returned memories from the previous night.  
He remembered most of his humiliation, the panic creeping back. Muttering a few draconic curses, Runaan wandered over to his wardrobe, almost tripping over the discarded wine bottle. All the while, his forehead pulsed with the familiar throb of a hangover after not nearly enough sleep. He dressed in his training uniform, strapping the rank pauldron in place and fixed his hair in a presentable fashion.  
After downing a bottle of pain medication, the Assassin used the last ten minutes to do a few stretches and warmup exercises since he'd effectively missed his early morning workout. His head still spun a little when he grabbed his swords but Runaan could already feel the potion working.  
On his way to the training pit, he passed Kira who was already up on guard duty. “Morning, Sir.” She greeted with that familiar hint of humour for his title. Her voice pierced through whatever comfort his pain medication had brought and drove itself like a needle into his already abused brain. “Kira please stop shouting.” The soldier cocked one of her eyebrows giving him a rather sceptical once over. “Good luck with teaching like that.” From her mouth he gathered she was probably whispering but it still seemed far too loud. “I’m just waiting for the potion to kick in. It’ll be fine.” After all, his recruits were meant to do all the work and not him. “If you say so. Give me a heads up if you need saving, I’ll be on duty the whole morning.„ he nodded faintly and cringed a little at her “Sir”.  
It was not fine.  
Not even remotely.  
The first half of their training thankfully passed rather smoothly, his headache finally dimming down a little. He let them recite all moves they’d learned so far to keep them occupied and paired them up afterwards for some sparring lessons. The clanging of steel against steel was hell for his hangover. Every sound caused a sharp spike of pain and the slight dizziness he’d managed to shake off intensified again over time.  
“Okay, everyone good work. Take a fifteen-minute break!” he ordered as soon as some of the recruits showed signs of obvious exhaustion. His students gladly accepted the opportunity to rest, after all they hadn’t been with the squadron for so long. It also gave him the chance to sneak away for a couple of minutes to regain his composure. Until now, Runaan was certain none of them had noticed his current state but he felt himself slipping by the minute. The urge to just lie down and puke was overwhelming.  
Back in his quarters, he splashed some cold water on his face and slid down the wall. Sitting felt like heaven but he didn’t dare lying down afraid he might fall asleep otherwise.  
His group was scheduled for shooting today and since it was their first lesson of sorts Runaan would have to demonstrate. The way his vision shifted at the moment however he rated his chances of actually hitting something pretty low. Sure, he’d managed in worse situations but this time he had a reputation to uphold. He also couldn't possibly ask the twins to help out since everybody knew he was the best shot in the whole squadron.  
He could deal with the flickering vision as long as his head remained relatively unscathed. Another pain potion managed to momentarily stop his headache but he didn't really trust it to hold up seeing the first one’s effect had just short of evaporated. Runaan filled one of his water skins and added another potion to it. That way he'd be able to drink it without anybody noticing.  
He was just about to reach for his bow when the Assassin noticed his fingers were slightly trembling.  
More than slightly actually.  
He curled them into a fist, trying to stop the involuntary motion but to no avail. When he unwrapped them again, his hands were still moving without permission.  
Oh.  
Of course.  
Runaan reached for the abandoned glass of whisky from last night, stopping halfway through. He shouldn't.  
He really shouldn't.  
And yet, there was a duty to perform. And a reputation to uphold.  
Shaking fingers wrapped themselves around the tumbler as he tipped the contents back, feeling the familiar reassuring burn. The time he'd given them was almost over so he savoured the last few moments of quiet before grabbing his bow, a little steadier this time.  
His group was already assembled when Runaan joined them in the pit. Good. Discipline was good.  
“We will be shooting today so I want every one of you to go to the Quartermaster and get a Bow and Arrows!” The chorus of “Yes, Sir!”s threatened to split his scull, own voice also painfully loud.  
‘Relax' he told himself ‘You just have to get through this session, then you can go home and die in peace.’ His group vanished into the armoury, eager to fulfil his command. They wouldn't anymore once that command meant life or death. Most at least. Some didn't seem bothered by the killing. He always made sure they ended up in Border patrol rather than his Assassins. The thought alone made him want to throw up.  
Speaking of which, his body demanded solid food. Runaan doubted he'd be able to keep it down but maybe it would help his hangover.  
It usually didn't.  
One by one, his recruits returned. All had a standard training bow and a quiver full of arrows. He remembered his first shooting lesson, years before. At the time, he'd barley been able to pull back the string for the whole duration of their training. Most would likely fare the same today.  
The Assassin glanced down at his hands again.  
Still slightly trembling.  
It wasn't much. Not noticeable from more than a few feet away but still enough to throw off his aim.  
‘Ah, for Moon's sake!’ he thought ‘Screw it.’  
“Everyone! I want you to line up the targets here-" Runaan used his right sword to draw a line in the sand “-and stretch thoroughly. Especially shoulders and arms. I'll be with you shortly.”  
He could feel Kira's concerned gaze on him but elected to ignore it as he returned to his quarters. The Whisky bottle was still where he'd left it the night before, or early morning really.  
With a moment's hesitation, the Assassin poured some in his tumbler.  
He was slipping.  
He was slipping because he'd managed to fall for the friendly smith. Literally.  
Runaan was more than aware that his lifestyle before wasn't exactly healthy. But he'd been functional. Mostly. At least for every one else.  
Now he was falling too hard too fast and couldn't keep up. Stressing about some stupid drawing he'd found. Pathetic.  
The alcohol’s familiar burn pulled him back into reality. He really had to do something but the thought of opening up to the smith scared him. Since he'd been a child the Assassin kept himself guarded, secrets buried deep under stern looks and his uniform. Somehow he didn't know how to do something else. He was scared.  
Runaan wasn't used to being scared. Long ago he'd lost the fear of death but this was different.  
With a smile, he watched his hands now move with their usual grace, steady and precise. It still took a lot of willpower but it would have to do. The targets were ridiculously close after all.  
His recruits were still stretching when he returned so he joined them to loosen his muscles a bit before calling them together.  
“Has anyone ever shot a bow before?” three arms tentatively rose. “Luna, would you demonstrate?” the girl with her arm up closest to him nodded and stepped forward “Yes Sir!” she did okay considering she'd probably taught herself. He corrected her stance a little but otherwise her form was pretty solid. “Thank you Luna.”  
After her release, the elf returned to her place, arms clasped behind her back like the others. “Now, we will start with the basic form today. It's not important whether or not you manage to hit something as long as your posture is correct. I'll teach you how to shoot while running and climbing later but for now we will start small.” He lined himself up for one of the targets, feet at shoulder width. It felt weird shooting without moving but it increased his chance to actually hit something considerably. His shoulder pulled uncomfortably on the stiches from his last mission, wound not even nearly healed. “Your shoulders should be on the same height and the arm holding the bow is always as straight as possible. Now, you pull the string back to your cheekbone so you are able to see along the arrow shaft in order to aim.” Runaan was pleased to see that neither his arms nor his hands shook under the strain of holding the bow drawn. “When you release, try to open your hand in one smooth motion.” He watched with his students as the arrow imbedded itself in the dead centre of the target. More than relieved, he turned towards his group again. “Pair up for each target and try to replicate the basic stance. I'll be helping you. Remember it's not important to hit as long as your technique is right. The aim will come naturally.”  
“Sir?” one of them, Kay, spoke up. “Could you demonstrate once more?”  
Dread pooled in his stomach even though he'd just managed a perfect bull’s-eye. “Of course.” Runaan took a deep breath, readying his stance. He moved slowly so they'd be able to track his movements.  
Inhale, draw, release, exhale.  
The second arrow landed right next to the other, shafts almost touching. Almost. On a regular day he'd have split the other or at least damaged it from this distance but now he was relieved he even managed to get that close with his vision shifting every few seconds.  
“Remember to never aim at another elf. I don't want any injuries.” The group saluted and each took their position. “Fire at will and take your time.”  
Runaan stepped back, giving them a few rounds to try out before he'd intervene. As if on cue, his headache resurfaced when Kira came walking towards him. “I have to say I'm surprised you managed to hit that.” She whispered, taking a spot next to him to watch the group. “As am I.” The elf turned towards him, eyeing Runaan sceptically. “I can take over if you want. Or get the twins. Either way you should be home and not here entertaining the rookies.” He wanted to shake his head but stopped after the first millimetres, white clouding his vision. “I'm fine.” He wasn't.  
He knew it and she knew it, too. “Sure just go home afterwards okay?”  
“Hn" he had to suppress a flinch when someone managed to drop a couple of swords. “That was the general plan.”  
Kira was just about to say something when a horn blared in the distance. Three calls. Their outpost was being attacked.  
Fuck.  
Just seconds later, an elf landed a Moonphoenix right in front if them, scattering the confused recruits. “Sir!” he called “Human soldiers attacked our outpost we need immediate backup there might be more on their way.”  
Of course this would happen now of all days.  
Kira glanced at him, worry now apparent in her eyes. “Sir?” she tried, waiting for his response.  
“Kira get the rest, meet here in 5!” he ordered already jogging towards his quarters. “Mako!” Runaan called to the elf still mounted. “Take Mila and Naki and get back, we will follow as soon as possible.” A chorus of “Yes, Sir!”s filled the space as the two guards in question came running to mount the Phoenix. They were gone before he even reached his door.  
On the other side of the fort he could see Kira knocking on doors, dragging the rest of his squad out on the yard.  
The change into his uniform was automatic and seconds later, he stood in front of the weapons rack, exchanging the training swords for his real ones.  
His hands were shaking again.  
With a low curse, Runaan pulled a flask filled with Lunar roots from his desk. Usually he wasn't fond of taking drugs on missions. It always left one way more on edge than healthy but if he wanted to be of use today he had no other choice.  
Two of them wandered in his mouth while he placed another one in his belt pouch. Just in case.  
The Assassin arrived just as the twins also hurried to Kira and the small group of soldiers. They already had called upon the couple of armoured Moon Phoenixes and were waiting for him, ready for battle.  
Kira narrowed her eyes as she handed him the reins to the bird he usually rode. “Your pupils are dilated. Are you on Lunars?” Runaan just shrugged apologetically. He knew the risks. “No other option.”  
She didn't seem entirely convinced but mounted her ride without another word.  
“Class, dismissed!” he called over his shoulder, kicking the Animal into a speedy take off.  
The headache shifted to a strange sense of hyper awareness of the Lunar roots. He'd taken them a couple of times before and was familiar enough to recognise when they kicked in. Sometimes there just wasn't enough time to rest on missions.  
The rest of his squad fell in formation behind his Phoenix, racing towards the outpost. He could already hear the fighting.  
“Jino, Janus, Cover us from up here. The rest is with me!”  
They charged from behind human lines and managed to catch them by surprise. Still, they were many. More than three dozen. Briefly he wondered why they would dare to attack an outpost that wasn't directly behind the border. Then he saw their colours.  
He'd killed their king a few weeks prior. The child.  
Runaan managed to pick off three human soldiers that were trying to climb the outer walls before he jumped off his bird. The frantic energy of the drug left him far too restless to just shoot at them from afar.  
Would it have been smarter? Probably. Did he just throw away one of his advantages? Most definitely.  
But this was his fight. He caused it, in a way at least. So now he was going to finish it as well.  
By the time Kira appeared at his side, he'd already disposed of another four, slowly working his way towards the outpost. Half of his group had dispatched inside the castle like they usually did, helping with defending the walls.  
That left Kira, him and the twins outside. He spotted another group of six, trying to get closer to the Watchtower. Runaan cocked his head in their direction, motioning for Kira to follow. They all made a good team. Years of missions together let them run like clockwork. Most of the time he didn't even need to say anything. Small gestures and glances were enough to convey what he was going for.  
He reached them before Kira, throwing himself head first into the group before they were able to close their ranks. Distantly, he could feel blades cutting his skin but it all faded in the background while his mind narrowed down on fighting.  
Another human fell to his blades but this time no one stepped in his place. Runaan scanned the floor, counting the bodies he'd left in his wake. Five.  
One was missing.  
A slight shuffle behind him, almost too quiet to hear had the Assassin spin around, blades raised and ready. Too slow. He ducked to avoid the human sword racing towards his head, anticipating the impact. But nothing happened. Instead, the human fell to the side, sword clattering on the ground between them.  
“You're sloppy.” The scolding tone had him immediately standing again. Kira.  
She jogged over, pulling her spear out of the human's back in one deft motion.  
He scoffed, wiping his own blades on one of the human uniforms while searching for more enemies. “I had it under control.”  
“Sure” she didn't seem convinced. “I heard more over there. Wait for me this time.” Kira motioned for the gate, now ruined and in splinters. They must have had a mage in their party. Or a very large battering ram. Unlikely.  
Together, they neared the gate from both sides, moving close to the wall. He waited for Kira before peeking around the corner. Inside were a good dozen of the human soldiers. Between them stood a woman with grey hair not dressed in armour. The mage. A few quick hand signs conveyed his findings to Kira who nodded and motioned for the bow on his back.  
She was right, if he would be able to shoot the mage from here, the humans would loose their advantage. Dark mages were powerful and killed with even less mercy than his Assassins. As quietly as possible, he reached for the bow and notched one of his poison arrows. That way, even a graze would be enough.  
His hands were trembling again, this time from the adrenaline and various other things in his system. He had to make this shot. She wasn't far away, maybe double the distance the targets had been just a few moments ago. Piece of cake Runaan told himself as he took another steadying breath.  
Kira threw him a worried glance as soon as she noticed his hesitation. It was very unlike him, true. Usually Runaan was all about swift execution but then he usually wasn't hungover and high on Lunars. At least not in situations as crucial as this. Kira moved to spy around the corner and nodded, motioning for him to finally move.  
And move he did. After another deep breath, he spun around the corner releasing his arrow in one fluent motion. The Assassin didn't wait to see whether the arrow found it's mark, used to never missing. Besides if it didn't it would be better to fight close ranged. Spells took time. Time he could use to attack. Behind him, he could hear Kira's boots in the gravel, his senses still hyper aware.  
Upon reaching the first few human soldiers he realized that he had in fact hit his mark. The Mage was on the ground in a rapidly growing pool of dark red.  
The good thing; the dark mage was out of the game. The bad; the other soldiers knew he was coming. Four of them banded together once he'd spent his element of surprise on the first human in his path. They were good but he was better. And much faster thanks to the drug in his system.  
Faintly, he noticed Kira joining him in the fight, shifting so they were back to back. He'd outrun her again it seemed. Together, they moved in circles, mindful to never leave an opening to the other's back. They'd fought like that before. Countless times. Runaan found a strange sense of reassurance at her presence.  
Before he knew it, Kira was gone. He whirled around, blades colliding with her spear. “Easy" she said, her right hand raised as one might soothe an animal. “We got them.” And really, when Runaan turned, he could see nothing but lifeless bodies.  
He checked on the Mage before they were moving on, plucking the arrow from her right side. Two hands off from where he'd been aiming he realized in shock. He must have pierced her lung instead. A lucky coincidence.  
Kira was already gone, deeper into the castle where sounds of battle still echoed through the halls. Somehow it was just like her to scold him and then doing exactly the same thing. Runaan kicked himself into a sprint when her familiar battle cry reached his ears. He'd be dammed if any of his squad got injured today.  
On his way inside the Outpost, he passed a moonshadow elf lifelessly on the floor. Runaan recognized him as one of his students, cleared for active duty a year ago. He reached down, checking for a pulse but found none.  
Kira was fighting four humans, two already at her feet when he reached her. Under regular circumstances she would’ve had a harder time but the narrow hallways had her at advantage.  
Runaan used the walls to catapult himself behind them, attacking their unguarded backs. Despite the dire situation he couldn't supress the smug smirk as Kira's opponents suddenly crumbled to the floor, leaving her spear short for work. “Show-off" she muttered, kicking one of the bodies to make sure they were dead. “Do you know who's stationed here?”  
He did but the information wouldn't quite come out. “Uh give me a moment.” Kira waited, looking at him expectantly. “Well?”  
“The 10th and a training group, year twos I cleared them last month. I just saw Kirito, he's gone.”  
“We should find the training group then. The 10th can hold their own.” He nodded, taking the lead towards the quarters. It was as good as any place to start.  
After a couple turns, the duo heard fighting and immediately quickened their pace. Around the next corner were four members of the training group according to their uniforms who desperately tried to defend their position. Behind them, a female was dragging a white haired body to safety.  
“You left, I right?” he asked and Kira adjusted her grip on the spear in response. They overpowered the six humans easily, years of training together had them fighting in perfect sync.  
“Holy Moon Spirit" one of the younger elves whispered, lowering his sword to salute.  
“Is that your whole group?” Runaan inquired instead. He was used to their wonder. What he wasn't used to however was the wide eyed look of utter shock the other three regarded him with. “S-Sir?” one of them stammered, taking a few steps back. He was just about to ask again when Kira placed a hand on his shoulder and stepped up. “Is everyone here? Or are you still missing a group member?”  
The first spoke again, providing cover for his friends. “Mika tried to go and warn the rest, he went up to the battlements. Everyone else is here.” In the back, the unconscious elf began to move again, groaning faintly.  
“Get them out.” He ordered, coking his head in the direction they came from. Kira nodded and immediately started to gather the group.  
Runaan gave them all a once over, making sure none were too injured to walk. “Which way did Mika go?” one of them pointed down the hallway behind them “It's the next turn right and then up the stairs.”  
He nodded and plucked the two arrows he'd used on the humans out of their corpses with a wet pop. Satisfied that they were still useable, he returned them to his quiver. “We meet outside where we dispatched, get the twins to help you secure the area.” With that he pushed past the still trembling recruits. “Don't get yourself killed, I'll get Mika.”  
The assassin took off in a sprint, unable to contain the frantic energy for much longer. He remembered Mika. A quiet kid but caring and loyal. He remembered Runaan of Tink. He ran faster.  
Arrow already knocked, he rounded the corner and released it in one swift motion at the human running down the stairs. Faintly, Runaan could hear the clashing of steel where the staircase gave way to the battlements. His over-sensitive ears picked up a familiar voice, shouting draconic curses in-between grunts. Mika.  
The Assassin dashed up the stairs and out in the open. Momentarily blinded by the sunlight, Runaan could only sense his kin on the right side, fighting off a group of humans.  
He attacked nevertheless, instincts fully taking over. His eyes had barely gotten accustomed to the light when two soldiers turned to counter his attack. Their companions continued to corner Mika, gaining more and more ground on the young elf. There was not much time left.  
Runaan supressed a grunt when one of the blades tore at his skin. A moment of diversion had allowed one of them to sneak past his defences. The Assassin repaid him in blood. With his full focus, overpowering the other was no hard feat.  
The remaining four soldiers all had their backs turned to him; Their loss. In a matter of seconds, their bodies tumbled to the floor, revealing an injured but still standing elf. Mika shrieked back, seemingly startled by the sudden lack of enemies. “Mika! Come on, we’ll meet the others outside. Are there any more humans here?” The other shook his head, eyes still wide and panicked. “N-no. I-I don’t t-think so, S-Sir.”  
Slightly trembling, Mika slid down the wall, tightening his grip on the short swords. “Are you too injured to move?” Runaan willed his voice as calm as possible but he could still tell his tone was scratchy from adrenaline and exertion. Somehow the younger elf didn’t get any calmer. “Mika?”  
“Y-yes?” Why was the other still afraid? Runaan looked around for signs of enemies but found none. “Are you alright?” a tiny nod “Can you move?” he held out his hand but quickly pulled it back seeing it was covered in human blood. After having it wiped off on his uniform coat, Runaan tried again, finally managing to coax Mika into taking it.  
“Don’t worry I won’t let any more harm come to you. I need you to follow me, alright?” Mika nodded hesitantly, accepting his arm for support. Damn him, why did this boy have to remind him so much of Tinker?  
Together, they took the stairs back down into the castle. Once they reached the bottom, another three human soldiers appeared. Damn it, they must have waited for them. With a low curse, Runaan pushed the young soldier to the floor, trying to get him out of harm’s way. He didn’t succeed completely as two of them occupied his blades just long enough for the third to attack Mika.  
He embedded one of his swords up to the hilt in the female human that was attacking him. Not bothering to pull it back out, Runaan reached for the dagger on his leg instead, using it to parry her comrade’s blows to find an opening for his other sword. The few seconds it took him to dispose of the two attackers had been enough for Mika to get overwhelmed by the third. The elf was still defending himself but he could count at least a few new cuts in the quick once over.  
With a yell, Runaan rammed his remaining sword through the human’s breastplate until its hand guard caught on the metal. He pushed the body aside, pulling the sword back out and sheathing it to take a better look at Mika. The other simply gasped and lost consciousness.  
A large gash on his side was bleeding profoundly. Not life-threatening Runaan assessed but the blood loss would be bad. The Assassin ripped Mika’s tunic to create a makeshift bandage and hoisted the unconscious body up in his arms. He made another stop to collect his second sword. The fight wasn’t over yet and he’d need both his primary weapons in case more humans showed up.  
Luckily, he didn’t encounter any more hostiles on his way outside. Once through the gate, Runaan could see the small group of Moonshadow Elves. Kira was currently busy treating some of the recruit’s wounds but all in all they seemed well. The Twins were each still mounted on their Phoenix, keeping watch for more humans while the rest of his squad and the Outpost’s soldiers came trailing out of the fortress.  
One of the young elves came rushing towards them as soon as she realized he was carrying Mika. “Is he going to be ok?” she inquired, trying to get a better look while still keep up with his fast strides. “It’s just a flesh wound. It’ll heal.” The elf didn’t seem convinced but backed off none the less. Runaan set the boy down next to Kira, gesturing for her to apply a proper bandage while he looked for the leader of the 10th.  
The other elf, far older than himself was currently talking to her soldiers, gesturing for the Outpost and the surrounding forest. “Aneela, do you have everyone accounted for?” She turned, giving him an odd look but didn’t comment on it. “My squad is almost completely present and only mildly injured but we are missing our youngest. Kirito hasn’t shown yet.” He frowned, looking back in the direction he’d come from. “I saw him when we entered. I am sorry but he’s gone.”  
Aneela nodded grimly, apparently she’d feared as much. “I see. Thank you, Sir for aiding us. I’ll retrieve the body.” A quick salute and she was rallying her soldiers already, making way to see what else damage had been done to their post.  
Runaan returned to the rest, relieved to see that Mika had already been sent back to the healers with Jino. They split the training group, each of them taking another one or two on their Phoenix to return them to the Academy and tend their wounds. His own squad merely sported scratches and he couldn’t help the slight pang of pride upon their performance.  
They couldn't have been gone for long seeing his recruits were all still more or less assembled in the courtyard. They scattered in order to make way for the Phoenixes to land but stayed close by, eager to hear what happened.  
Runaan dismounted before his mount even touched the ground, already making his way to the nearest group of soldiers. “Get a clean-up team ready and help the 10th, we also need to prepare a ceremony for Kirito tonight. Meela, get the high priestess and tell her to set everything up. Nico, I need a full report from the scouts, take as many rangers as you need and secure the area. I don't want any more surprises. Nakila, do you have an update on Mika's condition already?”  
His soldiers immediately scattered before him, all rushing to complete their new tasks. Nakila, one of the healers, approached him from where she'd been standing in the doorway of the academy's infirmary. “Mika's condition is stable now. He lost a lot of blood but thanks to your first aid and our magic, we could already close the wound completely. He won't be able to fight for at least a week though.” He nodded, following her to get a look at his wounded recruit. Mika was sleeping, a pristine white bandage around his abdomen. “Thank you, give him a two-week leave and tell him to check up with you before he returns for active duty. I don't want to see him near the training field until he's got your clearance.” She nodded dutifully, closing the door to give the sleeping elf some privacy. “I also need you to check up on the rest of his training group and my squad. As far as I could tell, their injuries are all minor but I don't want to take any chances. Also look out for traces of dark magic, they had a mage among them. Report back to me should you find anything.” The healer bowed respectfully “Yes, Sir. Might I also treat your injuries?”  
Under normal circumstances Runaan would've allowed her to do so. If only to keep Kira from nagging him later. However, he definitely did not wish to be examined at the moment. “I'll take care of it myself, thank you.” She looked a little annoyed but didn't object. He was notorious for skipping medical treatment, choosing to do it himself instead.  
By the time he returned to the courtyard, his recruits were whispering in little groups, some of them glancing nervously at either him or the battered training group. As far as he could tell, it was their first more or less direct contact with their work. Briefly, Runaan wondered how many of them would stick with being an Assassin.  
“Go home" Kira had somehow managed to appear right next to him, completely unnoticed. Only barley could he suppress the urge to jump at the sudden presence. “There are still things to do here Kira, you know that.” It sounded harsher than he'd meant to but the adrenaline was slowly wearing off, leaving him in a mix of exhaustion and pain.  
A very firm grip closed around his shoulder, forcing him to follow her to one of the changing rooms. Once inside, Kira closed the door behind her, making sure they were alone. “Okay honey, I really like you and I know you think you have to help here but please go home, or at least clean up before you've scared your whole group of recruits to death.” She'd never spoken to him like that.  
Runaan looked at her a little dumbfounded for a moment. “What exactly are you talking about?”  
The question caused a pained little sound from her, as she facepalmed with both hands. What the hell was going on?  
“Frankly, you look like shit.” Kira finally deadpanned, continuing before he could get a word in. “There are cuts all over your body, your pupils are still the size of coins and you look like you showered in human blood. Go home, clean up, get some sleep. I'll cover your class tomorrow.”  
“But-" he started, raising his finger as if to make a point. “Go. Home.”  
She made a vague gesture to his person. “Please, I'm begging you.” That made him pause. She'd never done that before. Kira was rational. Kira could be trusted, his brain supplied, if a little sluggish.  
“Okay" he allowed in a tone that he hoped was able to convey his trust in her judgement. “I'll clean up here and go home once I am presentable?” he voiced it as a question, sensing her better grip on the situation.  
Kira seemed to contemplate the options a bit before shaking her head. “No, they've already seen you. Just take the Phoenix and go home. We'll manage.” He nodded, reaching for the door when the world suddenly began to shift. Shit.  
His vision turned blurry and he could feel the nausea slowly creeping up. “Quarters, Now!” Runaan hissed, leaning against the wall for support when the world additionally started to spin.  
Kira, bless her, instantly understood and opened the door a fraction to peek out. She then vanished out the door, closing it behind her only to return a few moments later. Runaan was still braced against the wall, doing his best to not throw up. Everything was spinning, everything hurt.  
Suddenly, she was at his side again, throwing a cape over his shoulders and slinging an arm around his waist. Kira then tugged him outside and up the stairs towards his quarters, pushing him down to sit on the edge of his bed while she closed the door. To his surprise, he didn't see anyone outside, or at least he thought so.  
“What the hell happened to your Room?” she muttered, kicking a bottle and some clothes out of the way. “Please" his head was hurting enough already “Not now” Kira nodded, searching for something before returning with a piece of wet cloth and- a knife?  
Runaan drew back instinctively, reaching for his daggers.  
And found none.  
He patted both holsters again, hands coming back empty. Panic began to rise, making him scramble back further.  
“Easy" She held up her hand with the dagger, changing to a non-threatening grip. “I just want to get that Uniform off, alright?” His back hit the wall. “I am not going to hurt you.”  
She was right. She wasn't. He knew her. Kira could be trusted.  
Slowly, Runaan scooted back to where she was standing next to the bed. “I'll cut the fabric now, okay?” she asked, hovering a little closer. A tiny nod seemed to be enough of a confirmation. Slowly and very carefully, she opened the straps of his quiver to get to the coat underneath.  
He took a deep breath, looking down to see what she was doing and- bad idea, very bad idea. “Move" was all he managed before sprinting to his bathroom and throwing up over the toilet.  
It didn't take long before Runaan lost possession of the already meagre contents of his stomach, dry heaving for a moment until he leaned back to rest against the wall.  
Kira crouched on the floor in order to examine him again, turning his head this way and that, her hands searching to measure his pulse. “How many did you take? Half?” it seemed like the usual come-down effects of the roots had successfully mingled with his hangover and headache as little white dots appeared in his vision, dancing in random patterns. The bright pain in his temple only intensified as he tried to answer so the Assassin held up two fingers.  
She cursed, slapping him slightly when Runaan could feel himself drifting away. “You got to be kidding me. What the hell were you thinking? It's a miracle you didn't accidentally kill one of us.”  
He heard the words but their meaning was mostly lost to him as the Assassin was more occupied with blinking the spots from his vison.  
Suddenly, a knock sounded from the door, causing both of them to still instantly.  
“Get. Them. To leave.” He tried to put as much intend in his words as possible. Nobody should see him like this. His Assassins treaded a thin line between what needed to be done and what they should be doing as it was. If word got out their leader was consuming performance enhancing materials- he didn't even want to think about it.  
It knocked again.  
Kira also seemed to weigh their options, finally deciding to answer the door while he was still safely hidden from view.

* * *

Tinker was currently working on matching arrows for the Bowblade when he wanted to check some of his notes. Just that he couldn't find them. He turned every piece of equipment in his workshop for two hours. No sketchbook.  
Oh no.  
Oh dear Luna.  
Tink raced up the stairs to check the bag he'd used to carry it yesterday. Empty.  
It couldn't be.  
With horror, he realized that the only possible place his sketchbook could be was the Assassin's house. He must have forgotten it there the other night.  
His blood froze, cold shiver running down his back. What if Runaan had found it? Worse: what if he'd opened it?  
He had to get it back immediately. Before the other got a chance to look at his drawings. His drawing, to be precise. There was exactly one in there he was worried about. Now, Tinker cursed himself for not having it ripped out immediately.  
What if Runaan had seen it and found it creepy? He felt like a stalker. A very bad one nonetheless. If he were an actual stalker, he'd have managed to get more information about the other by now. That man was like an ancient tomb with no map and particularly many traps.  
Tink didn't even had to look at the other's time schedule anymore, he knew it by heart. The Assassin should be training a group of recruits now. If he left immediately, he'd be there in time to catch him in-between trainings. Hopefully undisturbed.  
He still took the time to tame his hair into a little neater state and dressed in a fresh shirt, not speckled with burn marks. In case the other had seen his sketch, Tinker wanted to make a good impression.  
The smith hurried on his way to the Academy, the longer his trek took, the more he'd worry about whether or not the other had seen his sketch. Now, he cursed himself for completing it at home. Had he just left it the way it had been, it wouldn't be a recognizable.  
After only a few minutes, the Academy came into view. It was unusually busy with healers and soldiers alike hurrying about, directed by shouted orders.  
Something was wrong and they didn't look like they just prepared for a training scenario.  
Dread pooled in his stomach as he passed the gates, finding no trace of the General or Kira. Only the twins could be seen in the courtyard, coordinating some kind of clean up.  
Carefully, he approached them, waiting until one of them turned to him. “I'm looking for the General, have you seen him?” the duo exchanged a nervous glance before one of them, Janus?, pointed in the vague direction of Runaan's quarters. “I think Kira forced him to take care of his injuries.” The soldier supplied, a little uneasy. “Injuries?” what if the other’s life was in danger? “What happened?” again, the nervous glance “Our Southern Outpost got attacked today. He and Kira did most of the heavy lifting.”  
Attacked? He must have missed the bells in the forge. Tinker mustered up a small smile and nodded “Thank you. I'll leave you to it.”  
Now, his heart was beating faster for a completely different reason. What if the other was injured badly? He'd seen first had that Runaan didn't really take that good care of his injuries, mostly ignoring them if he could.  
Tinker wound his way through the working elves until he stood at the staircase leading up to the General's quarters. Should he really? If Kira was already there maybe he'd just be in the way. No. He concluded, climbing the stairs to knock, they could always send him away again.  
He knocked, nothing happened. He knocked again. Now, he could hear muffled voices and faint shuffling from the other side of the door.  
It opened, revealing a slightly blood-speckled Kira. “Wait" she ordered and promptly closed the door in his face again.

* * *

  
  
He could hear the door opening and closing and then, Kira seemed to rummage through his stuff, pushing most of the items on the floor under his bed and out of view. What the hell was she doing?  
Suddenly, she was at his side again and Runaan couldn't quite supress the flinch at her presence. He definitely hadn't seen her coming. “It's the smith.” She said, pronouncing each word carefully.  
The smith? Tinker. Oh god.  
Runaan shook his head, regretting the motion instantly as scorching needles seemed to drive themselves in his skull. “H-he can't see.” Kira frowned, eyes flicking from the door to his person. “He will sooner or later if you don't stop being a reckless idiot.”  
She had a point. Of course she was right but- he really, really wanted this friendship to last longer than that. “Please?” Runaan tried once more, underlining it with their hand sign for ‘I owe you'. Signing was easier than talking anyways. Less movement for his head. “I'll try.” Kira finally allowed and stood.  
The last thing he saw before his vision darkened was her blue uniform coat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwahaha (insert evil laughter here). Poor Runaan but he hasn't survived the worst of it yet. Let's wait for Tink's reaction shall we?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In celebration of Ruthari Week, here is the new chapter!  
> I hope y'all enjoy it and I am profoundly sorry for the lack of updates. Life has been a bitch  
> Happy belated New Year's!   
> ♡Rumo

Tinker was worried. The longer the door stayed closed, the more he worried. If it was nothing Runaan would surely have greeted him, right? And since she didn’t let him in it must be something more than a few scratches. Again, he could hear muffled voice from inside just before the door opened again.   
“It’s not a good time.” Kira stated, throwing a nervous glance over her shoulder before drawing her eyebrows together at whatever she could see inside. “Is he hurt? Can I do something to help? Where-“ his questions got interrupted as she took another step back, looking at something intently “Shit” the soldier muttered before turning on her heel to rush back inside.   
Unsure of what to do, Tink took a step forwards, looking around for clues. The room looked unlike messier than when he’d last been here. Before, everything had been painstakingly clean and tidy. Back then the smith even got the feeling Runaan despised chaos due to his equally tidy and empty house.   
He didn’t want to invade the other’s privacy but his worry outweighed his morale so he carefully followed Kira into the bordering bathroom. She was kneeling on the floor next to an unconscious figure he immediately identified as the General. “Oh my god what happened?” Tink dropped to his knees, reaching out to feel for a pulse only to get his hand slapped away. “Just side effects, he’s going to be okay. You should leave.”   
“I-“ he started, giving Runaan’s unconscious body a closer look. He was covered in scratches, bruises and minor stab wounds but the most unsettling thing was that he was coated in blood from the tip of his boots to the formerly white hair. More blood than could have come from his wounds. It was also a shade lighter than what was leaking out of one of the numerous cuts; human blood. A cold shiver ran down his spine as Tink tried to imagine how that came to be. “I want to stay.” He steeled his voice against her assessing glance “To help. I know a few things about healing. I already stitched him up yesterday but it seems he ripped them already.” His gaze fell to the still-wrapped shoulder wound that had started to leak again while Kira mustered him through narrowed eyes.   
“Fine” she finally allowed. “Help me get him over to the bed.”   
Together, they managed to manhandle the tall unconscious elf towards the bed where Kira threw a thick wool blanket over the sheets before motioning for him to set Runaan down. “I think we haven’t been officially introduced, yet.” She offered a blood-stained hand “My name is Kira but you probably know that already.”   
He nodded, accepting the handshake with a small smile. “Yeah, Runaan told me. I’m Tinker.”   
That got him a raised eyebrow in response “You’re called ‘Tinker’?” he shrugged at her sceptical expression “It’s a nickname, everyone calls me that.”   
“Hm what’s your real name then? I like to invent my own nicknames.” Despite the dire situation, he had to laugh. Kira was just as blunt as Runaan had told him.   
“My name is Ethari, but really nobody knows that since they never bothered to question the nickname.” She narrowed her eyes again, glancing over to her Generals unconscious form. “Did he ask?” the soldier facepalmed as he shook his head with a grin.   
“Oh god I should have known. How can somebody so smart be such an idiot?”  
“Anyways, could you get off his armour and uniform while I get some water to clean off the blood?” Ethari nodded, reaching for the small dagger he always carried on his belt for convenience. “One thing” Kira stopped him “If he wakes up, get the hell away from him. Do you understand?” she waited for his nod before releasing him and vanished in the bathroom once again.   
Tink slowly reached for the various clasps holding the pauldrons and bracers in place and opened them one by one, careful to not jostle the other too much when removing the armour pieces. He laid them on a neat pile next to the bed before moving on to the sheaths that were strapped to Runaan’s thighs. It felt oddly intimate to have the other completely limp below him while Ethari was unbuckling the clasps on his upper thighs and finally reached for the metal belt buckle. His hand froze mid-air before touching it, checking once more if the other was really out cold. When he only heard the ragged and uneven breathing, Tinker deftly undid the closing mechanism, letting the leather fall to the sides. He had to lift Runaan’s hips a bit in order to get it out below him and was surprised to find yet another hidden sheath with a small knife incorporated in the back of the broad leather belt.   
Once he’d removed the belt, the dark blue uniform coat fell open, revealing another set of leather straps that housed six of the throwing knives Ethari had seen when he inspected Runaan’s weapons for the bowblade. He had an easier time getting it off since about half of the straps were more or less sliced through by cuts that continued in the padded vest and undershirt. By the time Kira came back with a bowl of water and two towels, he had the general down to his undershirt. He hesitated again at the fastenings of the last bit of clothing that separated him from the other’s skin.   
“What are you waiting for? He’s out cold. I won’t tell him you stripped him if you don’t.” blushing at her comment, Ethari sliced open the fabric seeing it was ruined by cuts and blood anyways and peeled the fabric off. It stuck to his skin in a couple of places so he had to rip off a bit of Runaan’s skin that had already started to heal. It didn’t wake him.   
 “Here” she handed him one of the towels, beginning to clean one of his arms. Ethari gave the other a once over again and carefully started to dab at his face. He was just about to finish the right side, now looking a lot more like an elf and less like a ghost bathed in blood, when Runaan’s eyes snapped open.   
Faintly, he heard Kira curse as a hand closed itself around his throat in an iron grip. Tink tried to struggle but it was no use, the words forming in his throat didn’t come, leaving him wheezing for air. He held up his hands to show he meant no harm but Runaan’s eyes were unseeing, gazing far beyond him or this room.   
“Runaan.” The soldier stated calmly, approaching with raised hands “Let him go. He means no harm.” She did some hand movements he recognized as sign language to underlining her words, fixing her superior with an iron stare.    
The General blinked, not yet letting go of him. “Let Tink go.” His name must have had some effect at least as Ethari could feel the grip loosening a fraction. Greedily, he sucked in air, coughing from the strain. Just before it tightened again, even stronger than before.   
“I’m so sorry honey.” Kira whispered just before she launched herself at Runaan, fixing him in a chokehold.   
Suddenly, the grip on his neck was gone, sending him on the floor in a lack of balance. Something flew above his head, hitting the wardrobe with a thund and a groan. Kira.   
“Runaan?” he tried, looking up at the elf now perched in a low crouch.   
“Don’t.” Kira wheezed “He can’t see us. Let me handle this.” The warning came too late. The Assassin was already closing in, shoving Ethari up the wall at his neck. He could probably break the hold but the smith didn’t want to hurt him. He also didn’t like his chances should he try and fail.   
Instead, he reached out. Runaan’s eyes flickered down to track his hands as they carefully enclosed both of the other’s cheeks. Ethari let his thumbs run soothing circles as steadily as he could given the slowly decreasing amount of oxygen he had left and tried his most reassuring smile.   
Just when he thought he was going to black out, Runaan’s narrowed eyes widened in shock and the pressure on his throat was gone. The other backed away as Ethari sank to his knees, occupied with catching his breath for the second time.   
“T-tink?” Runaan asked, voice barley a whisper. “Oh luna I-I-“ he broke off again, covering his mouth with one hand while the other went to his hair, fisting the blood-stained strands. “W-what are you doing here? K-kira?”  
Behind him, he could hear her move. Slowly.   
“You passed out. We carried you over to the bed to clean you. Treat your wounds.” Her sentences were short, precise and spoken in the calmest voice Ethari had ever heard her use.   
“C-clean?” Runaan’s gaze wandered to his right arm, still covered in red. His eyes widened again as he attempted to rub at the dried blood only to realize it wasn’t coming off.   
With a speed Tinker hadn’t thought him capable of, he rushed over to the floor length mirror, staring at his reflection in shock. His left hand wandered up to the side of his face he hadn’t cleaned yet, peeling off a bit of dried blood to examine it.   
“Runaan” Kira’s voice had him snapping around in an instant. “Show me that you’re with us.”   
He nodded slowly, performing a set of hand gestures in her direction until she relaxed from her fighting stance. “Thank the stars. You know it’s getting hard to contain you without the twins. You should lay off the training.” It was meant to lighten the mood but Runaan tensed again, backing away from both of them.   
“I-I am sorry. So sorry.” His back hit the wall and he jumped visibly at the impact before fixing his gaze back on them. “Tink-“ he tried beginning to move but stopped after the first step. Instead, he sat on the bed, looking around uncertain. “Are you okay? Did- did I hurt you?”   
Ethari shook his head, giving a thumbs up in response. “Fine” he wheezed, still not completely recovered.   
“I am also okay. Thanks for asking.” Kira supplied as she grabbed the blanket to chuck it at her superior.   
Runaan grimaced apologetically. “I’m sorry for throwing you. Again.”   
She just shrugged and sat down on the bed next to him, massaging the shoulder that had been slammed in the wardrobe. “You know I still owe you a few more throws before we’re even. Just don’t make it a habit, you have a mean backhand.” Ethari watched as he even cracked a small smile at her comment and shoved her shoulder a bit.   
“So, uh-“ Tink tried, not entirely sure how to read the situation. “What now?” Runaan’s eyes snapped back to him as if he’d forgotten the smith was here and immediately shrunk in his seat again. The silence that befell the room was more than awkward.   
“Well” Kira started, “We have about three hours before the ceremony at sundown.”   
“Then what are we waiting for?” Runaan asked, taking a few steps towards his bathroom only to stumble through most of them, barley catching himself on the edge of his wardrobe.   
Kira looked like she wanted to help him but a single sharp look had her backing off, watching him hold onto the wood with a white knuckled grip instead. “You should leave.” He turned, fixing one after the other with a haunted glint to his eyes. “Both of you


End file.
